Let Me Protect You
by SettlingSage
Summary: One bounced with excitement in her large golden eyes and splashed across her pixie-like features but I could hold no interest in her. Next to her sat a figure I had not seen in decades but knew instantly. Despite the fact he was pale with golden eyes, I knew that face, knew the honey blonde hair that fell just above his shoulder. I knew that those eyes should be brown.
1. Chapter 1

_**So this is a story I've had in my mind for while. Emmelyn and her Dad, Thomas (my two OC characters that this story centre's around) are adapted from my own original story that I have been completed stumped with for years now. OC characters are not something I tend to write so I hope you enjoy this and that it makes sense! Let me know what you think x**_

 _Is it possible that everything is true? Fairy tales and horror stories? Is it possible that there isn't anything sane or normal at all? People say you only live once. But people are as wrong about that as they are about everything. (New Moon and Bones)_

The sky was dark and the clouds promised thunder, a building burned across the square when I was born. My parents sometimes reflect that those flames had been a warning to them, to all of us. A warning about the Phoenix and the effect it would have on our lives. Phoenix's are not like how they are in mythology, beautiful creatures with the same sapphire blue eyes that my paternal family was famous for. Mythology teaches us that it's a bird of great beauty that creates intense excitement and deathless inspiration. The deathless inspiration I could relate to. The scene I described: that was 1673 in the home of an Anglican pastor and his wife. She screamed in the agony of childbirth and he battled against the flames threatening to overtake the whole square – our church with it. Maman spoke of the bird that flew in the window as the most terrifyingly beautiful thing she had ever seen. She could do no more than watch frozen as the creature let one lone tear streak onto her new-born daughters head. She blames this for the reason we are always born, and die, to fire. I've never been sure if I believed her stories but someone had to explain why we can never rest in peace: this, here in 2008, was the fifth time I had experienced a lifetime.

My first, my should have been only, life was simple. It was only when I was born again in 1744 and again in 1845 that we sure something was wrong. There was always whispers of others that could remember living before but never did it connect to our lives so we kept our secrets and Maman became certain that Phoenix tears were cursed.

1845 was my favourite lifetime. We lived in Texas since apparently Dad's parents had moved there before he was born. How true that was I never sure; I had never met any of my grandparents. Texas was gorgeously hot which contrasted to the previous lifetime where I had spent most of my adulthood in Scotland. The new century had brought us a new life in the middle of World War 2. I was brought up a true Parisian after Maman returned us to the capital – I never got to know my father that lifetime. It made him all the more precious to me now.

I smiled over at him as I excited our tent. We'd finished our two week hike across the Olympic National Forest and we were both completely shattered. We'd started in Port Angeles and headed west across the park to climb the Hurricane Ridge trail, see the hot springs and Lake Crescent. I was glad to collapse just outside Forks. We would rest in Forks for a few days, if we could find where Maman had planned for us to stay at the Miller Tree Inn, before getting the bus back to Port Angeles. We were going to hike back but the weather forecast made our route impassable. If Maman had booked it, our home for the next few days would be absolutely gorgeous. She tried to sell it to us last night when we had found signal to contact her, sharing how she had booked a room on the first floor with windows on three sides. We would have been happy with anything after two weeks of sleeping outside on the hard earth.

Dad grinned at me as I joined him where he was packing up. Still exhilarated from the last two weeks, the blue eyes that he has passed to me sparkled with joy. I had always been my dad's little girl, ever since our first lifetime. I clung to him as my life raft for the world. Seeing him, especially happy like this, always made me feel better.

"Morning, Dad," I was never a morning person but waking up and being straight out in the cool air was refreshing and made me a lot more conversational that I would have normally be.

"Good morning, Emmelyn," I let him hug me with one arm, keeping his other hand around the chair he was attempting to force back into the bag. "Got just over 2 hours to go, you up for it?"

Before I could answer my stomach growled and Dad laughed, quickly rummaging in his pocket for something I could eat. Taking the offered cereal bar, that would do for now but not for long, I helped him pack up and we quickly set off again. After the last couple of weeks, walking two hours along the road was a bit of a boring necessity, especially knowing that the Calawah river was running just over 500m from us at the furthest point. Once we joined the main road heading into Forks, I felt Dad's tension rise. It was not the safest road to walk along and logging lorries flew past us at terrifying speeds. I could practically see the relief wash through him as we approached the 'City of Forks' sign even though we still had to find the Inn. He threw his arm around my shoulder as we entered the city, his dark hair contrasting to my blonde curls, and we glanced around at our new surroundings. No matter how many times we visited America, I could never get over how different some of their cities looked compared to the UK. You'd never find a place that looked even remotely similar to Forks in England.

After two and half hours of hiking on only a cereal bar, my eyes immediately spotted out somewhere to eat once we were in the main area of the city. I pointed the Lodge out to my Dad without a word and immediately he began heading towards it. If I knew my dad as well as I thought I did, he hadn't had any breakfast at all, saving the last of our food for me. I cringed walking in, immediately taking in the stuffed animals on the walls. I could never stand being watched as I ate but I was too hungry to change my mind. We sat in a table by the window, looking at the sleepy city. My stomach growled again.

"Sounds like someone's hungry!" a voice at my shoulder laugh and I turned to find a friendly woman standing at my shoulder with two menus in her hands. "Shall we get you some food, sweetheart?"

I laughed at myself in embarrassment and took the menu offered to me, picking the first thing I saw, "Can I have some cinnamon French toast, please?"

I saw her expression morph to surprise at hearing my English accent but she didn't comment on it. Dad quickly gave his order and then silence fell. We smiled at each other across the table. My father wasn't a very talkative man, he could sit for hours in contented silence. He didn't like big crowds and certainly didn't do small talk. Somehow though, he still managed to charm everyone he spoke to. I was always a little bit jealous.


	2. Chapter 2

As expected, the Miller Tree Inn where Maman had booked me and Dad in was beautiful. It had charm and history: two things that would sell me on a place immediately. We were enjoying a glass of lemonade on the porch when Dad's phone rang. We both jumped. With spotty reception out in park, we hadn't been disturbed by the shrill sound for two weeks. Now it seemed louder and more painful than ever.

Glancing at the screen, Dad sent me a guilty look, "it's work."

One of the reasons we had gone hiking where there was no signal. Even though Dad had booked the time off, in the past his team would call him and he'd be gone for hours trying to sort whatever problem had occurred. I smiled at him softly.

"Answer it," I shrugged. "It's still early. I'll go have a wonder round the city."

I was standing up before he could argue, placing a kiss on his cheek. I was eighteen anyway, I was an adult in England.

"Be safe," he said, before sighing heavily and answering his phone. I laughed gently as I disappeared into the inn and up to the second floor to grab my coat and appropriate shoes.

Dancing down the front steps, I wondered where I would head. There seemed to be nothing much to the right of inn so I headed back towards the restaurant we'd eaten in that morning. I smiled back at the police man just leaving the station next to the inn. We had yet to hear any sirens yet so I assumed there was low crime in the city. Even on the outskirts, London seemed to constantly be surrounded by sirens.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?" he called out to me and I turned to see him approaching me. "Chief Swan."

I laughed under my breath – the chief of police offering me a lift home, that wouldn't happen in England … unless you'd done something wrong. He seemed safe. His brown eyes were warm and the underlying tone of his voice remind me of Dad. "I'm fine, thank you. Just heading out for an evening walk."

He nodded his head with a grunt of goodbye, I watched him get into the police car and drive off before wandering further down the round. It was still light out despite the clouds that cover the sky – I'd read that this area of America had one of the highest days of rainfall.

Teenage instinct had me turning right, away from the school, and back the way we had come in to town. Having headed this way, I recalled I'd seen a small hidden road on the way in that I wanted to explore. It would probably lead to nothing but houses. Still I hoped to end up near the river. I loved watching water tumble down towards the sea, maybe because I also died surrounded by fire in one was or another whether there be a candle nearby or accident. Water was the opposite, water was safe. It took me just under 20 minutes to walk to entrance, just over the bridge we had crossed to enter the city, and I glanced around quickly. No one seemed interested in the entrance and there was no signs to indicate there were any homes. With a final glance back, I headed down the unpaved track. It was well worn by vehicles, so I wasn't worried about becoming lost. The forest surrounding me was thick and dark; a different experience from the hiking up the mountains we'd been doing recently. There was nothing around to hint to a destination and I was glad there was a clear path. I was good a navigating with or without a map but these trees all looked the same.

Humming softly to myself, I walked steadily down the path wondering how Dad was getting on with his call. I'd been gone a while by now and wondered when he expected me back. My sense of direction told me that I was getting close to the river though and I felt a compulsion to reach it before I turned back.

I'd walked for about twenty minutes – and knew that I must have covered a mile – before the heavens suddenly opened and I was instantly drenched by the subsequent water. Instinctively, I start running unsure what I was running to. The trees gave me a bit of cover but the force of the rain still drummed down relentlessly. I had not grabbed the waterproof portion of my coat and bitterly regretted it. I was shivering to my bones what I saw something run past in the distance. I froze and squinted against the rain, trying to see what it was. I had thought it to be a person but they moved beyond any human speed.

"Are you alright, dear?"

I screamed, flinging myself around to find who had spoken to me. It was woman. Small and delicate, and more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen. Her golden eyes gazed at me with concern through thick caramel hair that was obscuring her vision. I felt immediately drawn to her and my heart settled in my chest as she smiled comfortingly at me.

"Do you need help?"

"It rained," was the only thing I could reply with, still so shocked at her appearance. Where had she come from? Her smile grew.

"I'm Esme," she offered gesturing me forward. "My house is just up the road – let's get you warm."

"Emma, well Emmelyn," I corrected myself, falling into step beside her without a second thought. "My name's Emmelyn, my friends call me Emma."

We made small talk as we hurried up the rest of the road and, whilst I shivered and my teeth chattered, Esme seemed unbothered by the cold rain falling on us.

Eventually a house began to appear from the darkness with what I was sure was usually a serene meadow leading up to the front door. The house was beautiful and reminded me off the inn with its deep porch that wrapped around the ground floor. It was old and charming. I stopped to look at it in awe, but Esme bustled my quickly up the lawn and into front door. I gasped at the huge space that we entered and beamed at the sight on the river just visible through the windows.

A voice drew my gaze towards the far-left corner of the room and I saw a man walking towards us. Something about him was undeniably familiar but I couldn't click what exactly it was. What I noticed though was that his gentle eyes matched those of Esme. His collar length blonde hair was the same colour as mine – when it wasn't practically brown from the rain.

"Carlisle, this is Emmelyn," Esme introduced me to the model, striding towards us. "She got caught out in the rain. Emmelyn, this is my husband, Carlisle."

"It's nice to meet you, Carlisle," I tried to smile politely at him, but I was shivering too much. "Sorry for just descending on you."

"That's fine, you're more than welcome," Carlisle spoke, and I caught the slight trace of an English accent that I hadn't heard before. I hadn't notice Esme leave but suddenly a towel wrapped around my shoulders.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Carlisle outstretched his arm to guide me to the sofas he had risen for and I took two steps forward before noticing two other people sat in front on the TV. One bounced with excitement in her large golden eyes and splashed across her pixie-like features. She was short with cropped black hair but I could hold no interest in her. Next to her sat a figure I had not seen in decades but knew instantly. Despite the fact, he was pale with golden eyes, I knew that face, knew the honey blonde hair that fell just above his shoulder. I knew that those eyes should be brown.

 _ **So there we have the first two chapters! I hope you love Emma as much as I do and the meeting of the Cullens. Jasper, Alice, Carlisle and Esme are going to be the main players in this story but I may bring the others in if I feel it's right. If you enjoy this let me know, I have more planned! x**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A.N. 1_**

 ** _So, I had 9 chapters written for you guys and my computer crashed losing it all. I tried everything to recover it but Word was not playing ball. So, I'm back to the beginning, fuming and upset, but trying to look on the brightside – maybe this is an opportunity to write it even better? My disappointment makes that really hard to stick with and the difficulty to rewrite this chapter did not help. This flowed out the first time, easy and natural. Now, not so much. So I'm so sorry if this isn't what you hoped it would be – it's not for me either._**

 ** _A.N. 2_**

 ** _I have a bit a revamp of some of these chapters. There is more coming but as I said in my last upload of Chapter 5 – I would love to hear your ideas._**

* * *

My heart thudded in my ears at the sight of him, blocking out any and all sounds. I stared at the sofa, taking in the lean but muscular figure that rose to his height over six meters. His golden eyes gazed at me in longing and surprise. He was real. The small girl, left on the sofa, watched him nervously but I thought I saw some sadness coating her matching eyes.

"Jasper?" I breathed, joy bubbling up in my chest. His lips quirked upwards in recognition. I beamed; my next words breathless with laughter. "Jasper! You're real!"

I leapt towards him and threw my arms around his neck hugging him to me with all the strength I had. The girl he had sat beside hissed but neither of us paid her any attention. My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach as I realised that the warm body that used to hug me so tightly was now a cold one that tensed at my touch. Freezing, firm hands wrapped around the tops of my arms and gently, slowly, he pushed me away. My heart dropped to my stomach as he took several determined steps away from me.

"Jasper?" I asked in concern, taking in his stiff posture and clenched jaw. I could almost swear that he was not breathing.

"Stay away, Emmelyn," my heart lifted at his voice even as it broke. His voice was comforting and familiar even though I was sure it held a new ring to it than wasn't there when I had last spoken to him decades ago.

"What?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. I felt tears tingling my nose from all the emotions that were rocking through me. I had imagined being reunited Jasper many times, though I knew it was near impossible, I had always imagined it happy and joyful – just like when my boyfriend returned from the army, just like it was when Jasper returned for a short leave during the civil war. I'd imagine him picking me up and swinging me around like he had then, both of us laughing. I had never imagined this. Never had I thought my Jasper would push me away.

I watched horrified and heartbroken as a pale hand rose to reinforce his point, "stay back."

I swallowed thickly, unsure what was going on. I stared across the feet that separated us with wide eyes. Jasper stared back desperately; his eyes a horrid reminder that everything was wrong. They should be brown, I thought stubbornly, almost like Maman's. I took a step forward towards him and he instantly moved further back. I felt tears flood my eyes at his obvious rejection and a sob escaped me.

I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide the tears from him. Receiving no comfort from him, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Jasper," it was more of a sob than a word and I realised I had said little else since setting eyes on him.

"Emma, I love you," he whispered, agony distorting his features, a different type of handsome than I remembered them. "So please, please, just stay where you are."

Even with his eyes the wrong colour, I knew true sorrow from him when I saw it. I had always been able to tell what Jasper was feeling, though whether that was about me or him I was never sure. I nodded and watched him relax ever so slightly. Pain shot through me and his expression morphed once more.

"I shouldn't have lied, Jazz," I whispered the words I had wanted to tell him since I heard he'd gone missing. "I shouldn't have lied to Daddy. He wouldn't have let you sign up, if he had known, he would have never let you go."

"Don't do that," Jasper practically growled at me.

"Do what?" I breathed, trying to brush away the tears that still fell stubbornly down my cheeks. His hand twitched as though he wanted to close the distance between us and brush them away like he always had but he stayed firmly where he was, across the big, white room and silhouetted by the large dark windows.

"It's not your fault."

" _I_ should you stopped you," I sobbed, ignoring his words. I had lied to Dad so he could sneak out and join the war too early. If I hadn't lied, Dad would have made sure Jasper didn't go, he would have made certain of it. Jasper wouldn't have gone to war when he did and things could have been changed.

Jasper's lips quirked, "I'd like to have seen you try."

I laughed but it came out watery and the amusement of Jasper's face faded as quickly as it up come.

"What's wrong with you?" I whispered so low I couldn't be entirely sure he could hear me, but he had. He broke our eye contact and sat back down beside the dark-haired pixie. I stayed frozen where I was, I couldn't stand to hear him tell me to stay away from him again.

"I can't tell you," he answered eventually, his voice tense and firm.

"Why not?" I snapped and his head snapped back to me, surprise clear on his face. I was rarely curt with him. "You can't just not tell me. I need to know what's happened to you. I have to. I'm your sister, Jasper!"

I heard a gasp from behind me but didn't care if it was Carlisle or Esme that had made the noise. Jasper had shot to his feet, matching my frustration with his own "I can't be trusted, Emmelyn!"

"I trust you," I swallowed thickly, my voice as whisper once more, "I've always trusted you."

Jasper didn't look at me but looked over my shoulder at Carlisle and Esme, "I'm guessing Dad's probably here with you. He must be worried, Carlisle will drive you home."

I clenched my jaw, "so he can be trusted but you can't."

Jasper stared back at me and I glared, trying to appear threatening but knew that being soaked to the skin – Esme's towel having been thrown to the floor long ago – and with tears streaming unabashed down my face, I did not give the impression I desired.

"Yes," Jasper's words were grave and, in that moment, I sensed some true darkness in him. Darkness I could not account for. Darkness I certainly didn't remember from my brother. He turned away from me then and Esme's arm appeared comfortingly around my shoulders guiding me away from him. I was so lost in my word of upset that I couldn't even be embarrassed around the scene I had just caused in from of what was likely Jaspers' new family. My stomach lurched: he didn't need me anymore.

Carlisle and Esme moved with me to the dinning room. They didn't speak much as I tried to calm myself down and Esme tried to squeeze the last of the water from my hair. It was nearly dry now anyway, beginning to curl and flutter around my face. Carlisle rested a hand comfortingly on my shoulder but soon I realised that darkness had surrounded the house long ago. Dad would be terrified something had happened to me.

"Do you mind driving me home, Carlisle?" I asked softly. "I can walk if it's inconvenient."

Carlisle gazed at me softly with concern, "Are your parents there?"

I nodded, not bothering to correct him that it was only Dad. Maman was not a hiker and she was far too busy with weddings to take time away from her floristry business.

Carlisle stood slowly and I followed his lead, letting him guide me with a gently hand under my elbow. Jasper shot me a tortured smile as we walked into the main room but I couldn't respond. I felt numb.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Ladies and Gentlemen, it is snowing. In the South of England, it is snowing and settling! My winter is complete, the miracle day has happened._**

* * *

Carlisle's Mercedes was dark and purred quietly in the silence that settled between us. He drove slowly down their driveway and I guessed it was way of allowing me to settle myself further. I appreciated the effort – I was dreading having to explain to Dad what was wrong. He'd taken Jasper in at only 5 years old. Jasper was as much Dad's son as he had been my big brother.

"So, Emmelyn, are you here on holiday?" he spoke eventually, softer than I expected and I was glad for the distraction of conversation.

I nodded, latching quickly onto the subject, "me and my Dad have been hiking. We live in London: are you from England? I thought I heard a familiar accent."

Carlisle chuckled, "you have good ears. I was born there."

"What made you move?" I asked curiously.

He was quiet for a while as though weighing his answer, "new opportunities, shall we say."

He smiled at me but something told me there was a lot more to the story than that. Silence settled around us again and Carlisle only spoke as we were crossing the bridge into Forks.

"Can I ask you something, Emmelyn?" he was voice was serious and yet something still held traces of excitement. "You can, of course, decline. I have been told I have insatiable curiosity."

I laughed softly, "how can I possibly be Jasper's sister?"

He smiled sheepishly at me and the expression was eerily familiar. I shook it off.

"You don't have to answer," he assured me.

Part of me wanted to tell him, he seemed so kind and genuine I never wanted to deny him anything, but I'd sworn to my parents many times every lifetime that I would never tell a soul about it.

"I want my Dad first," I smiled at him, hoping he didn't think I was just trying to get out of telling him. Speaking of my Dad had my glancing at the clock on the dashboard. "I've been gone hours, he must be worried sick."

As though in answer to my words, Carlisle put his foot down and we were pulling into the inn soon after. In the dark, the headlights swung over the inn illuminating the building and my Dad's tense frame sitting on stairs. I was out of the car and rushing towards him practically before Carlisle's had pulled to a stop.

I saw the worry in Dad's face morphing into anger as I rushed towards him but I threw myself against him before he could say a word. Being late home in England was one thing but on holiday in a different country was another thing all together. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, sighing into my hair with relief; his warm acceptance pushing away some of the pain from Jasper's rejection.

"Go easy on her," I heard Carlisle approached us. "She's had a tough night."

Dad pulled away, even as desperately tried to cling to him, my fingers clutching and tangling in his jacket, to get a good look at my face. I didn't bother to try hide from him: he could spot the traitorous signs of tears hours later. His jaw tightened but to my surprise he said nothing.

"Thank you for bringing her back, Mr…" Dad spoke kindly and his voice soothed my frayed heart.

"Dr," Carlisle corrected him, "Cullen."

My head snapped round in surprise and felt the shock run through Dad, "what a small word, that's our surname too."

I stared closer at Carlisle. I could have sworn that Dad has said my grandfather was Carlisle Cullen with my blonde hair and our blue eyes. Carlisle's eyes were golden now but then so were Jasper's. Neither Dad or Carlisle showed any sign of recognition. Maybe I was wrong, Dad would know his own father. I'd know him anywhere, no matter how many years had passed.

"Thank you for everything, Carlisle," I smiled at him.

Now Dad tensed and I glanced up at him. He was studying Carlisle closer as he repeated the name as though trying to see if he had misheard. I wondered what he could see in the darkness that I couldn't. "Dad?"

I glanced between the two men warily. The only thing I had known about my grandfather was that Dad loved him very much and he had died in his late 20's hunting vampires. Horror swept over me – could he and Jasper be vampires?

Dad jolted me out of my ridiculous thoughts.

"Emma, angel," he gazed down at me and I tried miserably to understand his emotions. "Would you go upstairs please? I'll meet you up there in a bit."

I stared up at him incredulously. He wanted me to leave? Now? I opened my mouth to argue but he shot me a look that I knew all too well. I knew better than to argue with him when he looked at me like that and quickly shut my mouth.

"Thank you again, Carlisle," I smiled over at him. He had yet to say a word but stared at Dad as though he had seen a ghost. I suppose he always pictured Dad as an eight-year-old not the fully-grown man he had become.

"You're welcome, Emmelyn," Carlisle's voice followed me up the stairs but I sensed he wasn't really aware of his words. I glanced back at them as I closed the front door to the inn, they weren't moving.

Shutting the door, I rushed upstairs, looking forward to changing out of my still damp clothes and into warm pyjamas. I went through my nightly routine quickly, brushing my teeth and hair before throwing it up. Moving to the window, I grabbed a blanket. The rain that had drenched had passed long ago and I loved the smell of the world after a good soaking. I threw the window opened and settled on the windowsill. Dad and Carlisle had moved further away from the Inn and were involved in a lively conversation. I could out by Dad's posture that it was going nearly as well as Jasper and I. Except this time it was Dad who was angry – I couldn't make out Carlisle's body language. I tried to imagine what it would be like for them, tried imagining what it would be like to find Dad alive after 300 years. I couldn't name the emotion that rocked through me.

I said heavily, looking away from them. Closing my eyes, I could see Jasper clear as day. I had been slowly forgetting the small details of his features but now I could see him standing in his uniform as though he was standing right in front of me. I was around 14 when the war broke out and I remember punching him when he told me off his plan to join. I still don't understand how he convinced me to lie to our father so he could sign up. Even more clearly than anything, I could remember the day they came to tell us that he was missing. I was 16 by then and the one that answered to door to the soldiers. Terror had filled me as soon as I'd seen them – I didn't need them to tell me. I had known instantly. I called for Dad and Maman and the words, the god-awful words, tumbled from the soldier's mouths. It's the words I don't remember.

"Emmelyn," a chime-like voice sounded from the darkness of the room and I span around to see who had spoken.

It happened before I was even aware that I was unbalanced. In my haste to see the room, I disturbed myself from the window and tumbled out of it, feeling my feet clip the windowsill as I feel. I screamed as the air rushed past me. I reached out desperately trying to grab something, the logical part of my brain still aware enough to tell me that I was falling head first and was going to die if I didn't do something. My heart beat faster than it had when seeing Jasper and I could hear nothing but the wind rushing past my ears, pulling my hair from the ponytail I had put it in minutes before. It fluttered around me, such a pale blonde in looked white in the moonlight, like a flag of surrender.

The pain shot through my before I was really aware that I had stopped falling. I cried out in pain.

"Emma!" I heard my Dad shout, more panic in his voice than I had ever heard before, and his footsteps rushing towards me. I groaned, looking up to where I'd fallen to see the small, pixie girl staring down at me in horror. Her golden eyes were glassy as though she was almost crying. I was sure I was – could feel the warm liquid sliding down to the ground. Dad's footsteps drew closer but I was submerged in darkness by the time in reached me.


	5. Chapter 5

**_This chapter was longer when I wrote it originally but I can't for the life of my explain what else was in it. I have a couple more chapters nearly ready for you all but they're all quite short. Any hopes and views on how the story will progress would be very appreciated!_**

The first thing I noticed, before the darkness of sleep even faded, was the pain. My head rang like it was the largest bell in the church and my chest burned with every breath I took. My heart raced suddenly as I noticed and tried to gulp in more air. A hand touched my clammy head, and another clutched comfortingly at my hand.

"Easy, Angel," Dad's voice drifted over me and I snapped my eyes open to take in his blue orbs swirling with worry inches from my own. "Try settle your breathing for me."

I winced against at the pain that shot across my chest as I took a deep breath in. Dad smiled at me softly as I slowly settled myself down, softly stroking my hair, "What happened?"

Fear crossed Dad's face for the briefest instance but he brushed it away.

"You fell out the window," he spoke in a question and as soon as he said the words it flooded back to me. "Do you remember?"

I nodded, lost in my own world for a minute. Jasper and Carlisle. They had been real. That wasn't some crazy dream I had created. As though, he has sensed my thoughts, Carlisle strode into the room. I frowned taking in his coat and charts. So, he was a Doctor, my doctor it seemed. He smiled at Dad as he entered but turned his attention immediately to me. It was hard to see him as a doctor. He was apparently my grandfather, my grandfather who was younger than my Dad. My head hurt as it tried to make sense of that information. Did he not age?

"Are you in pain, Emmelyn?" Carlisle's concerned voice broke through and I looked round to see him. I shook my head, even though it was a lie. He quirked an eyebrow at me, just like Dad did and I blushed. "What hurts?"

"Everything," I answered honestly this time. Whilst my chest and head hurt in a way that I was sure something was wrong, I was also certain that my whole body was bruised: it ached in a way that was far more distracting than my head.

Carlisle smiled sadly with a hint of amusement and Dad squeezed my hand.

"You took quite the fall," Carlisle reminded me and I grimaced. I didn't need the reminder now. "You've got a concussion, and a couple of broken ribs that have bruised your lung. I've done everything I can whilst you were asleep and now I need you to rest for me. We'll manage the pain."

Horror passed over me, "you mean I have to stay in this bed? For how long?"

Dad chuckled lightly under his breath, settling me down without doing anything.

"No, you don't have to stay in bed. In fact, it would be better for you ribs if you moved around but take it easy," Carlisle smiled at me, his hint of amusement growing. "I want to keep you in for week, at least, just so I can keep an eye on how everything's healing. You were very lucky, Emmelyn."

I nodded, at least he didn't want me to lie down all day. I realised how true his last sentence was – I had been falling head first: I could have died. I tightened my grip on Dad's hand just as Carlisle pager went off. His face tightened with worry as he read it.

"Dad?" my Dad's voice broke the silence. I froze: it was one thing to believe that Carlisle was Dad's father, it was another thing to know that Dad believed and accepted that. I wonder how much time they had had to talk and what it was about. Carlisle was my grandfather, my real, blood grandfather even if he only looked ten years older than me when Dad was approaching his 40's. I smiled lightly. We'd always been a strange family but Jasper and Carlisle were just making things impossible to be real. My heart ached: Carlisle was here and accepting Dad, and me, but Jasper wasn't. I didn't dare ask if he'd been whilst I was asleep.

"I'm needed down in the emergency room," he told us but didn't make a swift move to leave, like I was sure he should be. I could see other hospital staff rushing around outside the door. "Do you need anything, Emmelyn?"

"I'm fine," a warm wave of affection washed over me for him.

He touched Dad's shoulder and then rushed out the room at a speed I was sure was ever so slightly too fast to be normal.

Silence fell as Dad and I were left alone. It was heavy and settled on me like a dead weight. Things has changed so much since we left our final campsite.

"You scared me, Emmelyn," his words were soft and honest, and they instantly broke my heart. I could hardly imagine what it must have been like for him to watch his only child tumble from the first floor, to be unable to do nothing. My ribs protested as I leant towards him and wrapped my spare arm around his shoulders in an awkward hug. He gathered me up swiftly, shifting me so it didn't hurt quite so much, and held me as tightly as I was sure he dared, pressing his cheek to my head. I breathed in his familiar scent, letting it settle my nerves. He shook ever so slightly in my arms and a dampness settled into my hair where his cheek lay. I clutched him tighter, not bothered that it hurt. I wasn't sure I had ever seen Dad cry in this lifetime – neither of us were big cries, though yesterday made it seem like I was. Jasper flittered back across my thoughts and I wondered if Carlisle had told Dad.

We stayed in an embrace until a nurse appeared at door, looking apologetic for disturbing us. She entered at Dad's smile and spoke to me briefly – providing me with painkillers and an icepack – before disappearing again. I held the ice pack to my ribs and the burning pain that swept through it was numbed quickly. I sighed in relief.


	6. Chapter 6

_**New Chapter! Sorter again than I'd hope, sorry. I only have one more full chapter written and completely stumped as to where to take this story next. As I said, I had only envisioned the meeting between Emma and Jasper.**_

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It was late in the evening when Carlisle swept into my room again, looking far more dishevelled than he had when he left. His blonde hair was falling into his face and his clothes no longer sat on his frame as perfectly as they once had. I frowned at him sympathetically.

"Tough day down there?" I asked softly, tilting my head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Carlisle stopped and gazed at me. I wondered what he was seeing when he looked at me: if he could pick his or Dad's features out, if he was trying to imagine what Maman looked like, or if he was simply trying to connect me as his granddaughter as much as I was with him.

His smile didn't reach his eyes when he responded, "no, thank for you for the offer, Emmelyn. Car crash over on the 101, school bus."

I cringed just thinking about it and could hardly imagine the day Carlisle must have had. Dad stirred next to me and I broke eye contact with Carlisle to look at him. He had succumbed to sleep only half an hour ago and now was settled uncomfortably in the chair on my bedside. I wanted to wake him up and complain that he'd injure his back and neck is he slept like that but I didn't need Carlisle to tell me that he had stayed awake for the last 24 hours, hovering over me with worried and wild eyes.

Carlisle smiled over fondly before walking round the bed and gently shaking Dad's shoulder. Dad awoke easily, fear instantly coating his features. His eyes shot to mine immediately and I made sure to smile brightly. He sighed, relaxing back in the chair.

"Go back to the Inn, son," Carlisle spoke, and I noticed his accent was currently as English as my own. I pressed my lips together in amusement. Dad, however, frowned up at him. "Get some food, take a nap. You need it."

Dad looked round at me, his gaze calculating, "go on, Daddy. I'm fine! Carlisle will be here."

He sighed heavily, looking between us but must have known that he was never going to win. He lifted himself from the chair and leant over to kiss my forehead.

"I'll be back soon," he promised me in a low tone.

"Don't rush," I implored him, grasping the wrist of the hand he'd laid on my cheek.

"I'll be back soon," his jaw clenched and he repeated his worlds firmly, eyes locked with mine, and I knew that this time I would not win. I quirked a smile at him and he kissed my forehead again.

Carlisle and I watched him leave the room in silence. I felt his absence keenly the second he stepped through the door and was out of sight. It settled in my heart like a weight, dragging me down, and I bit my lip, glancing over at Carlisle. I wanted Dad to leave and take care of himself but I didn't want to be alone in the hospital. It seemed my emotions didn't count Carlisle just yet.

He seemed to note my hesitation and moved towards me slowly, "shall we take a walk?"

I nodded immediately. I was tired of being sitting in bed and at least walking around would give me an excuse not to make eye contact with him. He helped me to my feet and handed me a dressing gown. The hospital seemed quiet as we strolled slowly through the corridors. Carlisle spoke of his work and Esme to break the silence and in return I spoke of living in London and my boyfriend, Jack. I didn't usually date with what we had come to call 'the Phoenix effect'. I had never wanted to get attached to anyone if I would eventually be left alone, heartbroken for the rest of my existence nor did I want a stream of marriages or partners behind me. Constantly comparing and missing people seemed like torture to me. I already had to suffer with the loss of close friends…of Jasper. I was happier to be alone and stay with my family. I worked as governesses in my previous lives to avoid the pressure of marriage: Dad and Maman had never minded. I envied them though: to have the certainty of each other. They weren't always happy – we had all changed a lot in ourselves since the 1600s – but they always found their way back to each other. Jack was persistent, though, and no matter how many times I said no, I always wanted to say yes. There was something about him that drew me in and made me feel that it would be okay to try dating just this once.

Neither of us spoke of Dad or the fact that we all should have been dead a long time ago or that he should have been around 60 years old. As we neared my room, I told Carlisle about Jack's work in the army and my heart tumbled. I had been pushing it back all day but the talk of the army instantly made my thoughts turn to Jasper and suddenly his rejection stung as clearly as it had yesterday.

Silence had fallen between me and Carlisle a couple of times during our walk and he had left me to my thoughts in those moments. However, it seemed he was not willing to let me wallow. I wrapped my arms around my body as the wave of rejection washed through me and Carlisle was instantly there as I squeezed tears away in anger. I was not a tearful person. Carlisle wrapped a tight arm around my shoulder and guided me at a faster pace back to my room.

"It's not fair, Carlisle," I complained as I moved to sit on the bed and he shut the door behind us. "Jasper and I were so close… I just – I need to know why he's different: why I can't trust him? I need to know what happened to him when he didn't come home. I lied for him: what happened because of that is all my fault."

"Emma," Carlisle sighed my name heavily but it didn't escape my notice that this was the first time he had used the shortened version of my name. "When Jasper says he can't tell you, he's not being difficult. If we told you, and part of him desperately wants to, we would be putting you and your father in grave danger. Danger far worse than we could protect you from. We're just trying to keep you safe."

"I miss him," I whispered, leaning into the arm that he still had wrapped around my shoulder. He didn't say anything in return and I drifted off to sleep in his cool embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

"When I woke again, I was lying in bed with the blanket draped carefully over me. The door was shut and the room was almost pitch black. The chair next to my bed was empty and I felt wistful for my Dad. I hoped Carlisle had called him to make him get a good night sleep at the Inn. If I was asleep, hopefully he wouldn't have felt the need to rush back. Though aware that Dad was nowhere around, I was not unaware of the figure blocking out the light that filtered in window. My eyes adjusted and the figure staring at me was familiar. I knew that frame, the lean but muscular body. I squinted closer. His shoulders weren't moving – was he even breathing?

"Jasper?" I whispered, trying to make out the familiar features of my brother. He moved from view of the window and I gained enough light to take in his set, tensed expression. Apprehension gleamed in his eyes but it was him. "Jasper, are you trying to scare me?"

He didn't respond or move and my eyes adjusted further to take in the hands clenched into his expensive clothing.

"What's wrong with you, Jazz? Why won't you come any closer?" his jaw clenched at my question and I realised that I had asked the right thing. I took in his pained expression and my throat closed up.

Suddenly he stepped closer.

"Are you hurt, Emma?" concern shined from his southern accent and my heart swelled with love for him. A smile drifted over his face but it didn't stay for long.

I didn't respond, hoping he would keep talking. Sighing when he didn't, I took it as my turn to speak, "I'm fine, Jasper. Carlisle's just keeping me in to keep an eye."

"I told Alice to leave you be; she's mighty torn up that she scared you."

Alice, I tucked the name away in my mind.

""It wasn't her fault," I smiled at him even as my heart sunk that he had told his friend to stay away. "You know I've always been jumpy. Please tell her to stop worrying."

Silence fell between us as he nodded his agreement to my request; all I could hear the clock ticking until I felt the desire to throw something at it. Jasper and I had always been comfortable in silence. We could spend hours in the house in Texas either reading together or playing a game. Often, he'd sit with me as I played my guitar, never speaking but lost in his own world. Silence was our companion.

"Jasper," I returned to whispering and watched him tense as though he knew what I was about to say. He shut his eyes as though he could ward away the questions. "What's going on with you? I'm your little sister… please, just talk to me. Nothing is going to change between us, I -"

His eyes flew open, locking with mine instantly and pinning me in place with their intensity.

"I could kill you in a second, Emmelyn," he snarled the words interrupting me and it was that tone, more than the words, that hurt me most. "I _want_ kill you."

He lent forward for emphasis and I watched in horror as his butterscotch eyes, that had watched me with such concern, swirled into empty black orbs in which I could see no emotions. My heart leapt in my throat even as I tried to portray a calm front but my instincts betrayed me. A growl rumbled through the room and I glanced around the space, praying that the source wasn't my brother. But he didn't move, instead he rocked back and forth on his heels as though chained to the spot.

"No, you don't," I whispered, more certain than I felt. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in fear but I refused to acknowledge them. "If you really wanted to, Jasper, you would have done it already."

The door suddenly swung open and light streamed into the corridor. The sudden change caused me to cringe away so I heard Carlisle before I saw him.

"Jasper, be careful," his voice was harsh for him and I found myself instantly tracing his features, like I did Dad, trying understand them. I could see the worry and fear traced across them but couldn't understand the reason. Jasper wasn't going to hurt me. I glanced back at Jasper. He was watching me: his eyes once again the colour of honey and swirling with longing. My heart went out to him but I didn't dare move to comfort him, not when he would only push me away again.

"I'm sorry, Emma," I locked eyes with him instantly as he spoke. Carlisle's presence immediately forgotten. I took in Jaspers voice, attempting to analysis the differences, and the peculiar wave of calm that drifted over me. His eyes were misty and his face remorseful. The more I stared, the guiltier I felt. I couldn't attribute the feeling to anything but I felt it as though it was gnawing at my insides. Tears tickled at my nose but I pushed them away – I was fed up of crying. I had nothing that I felt guilty about. At least not to this extent.

Suddenly I blinked and he was gone. I glanced around in confusion, noting that as swiftly as Jasper left so had the guilt that threatened to eat me inside. Carlisle was gone as well and I wondered when in our staring competition he'd left us alone again.

I didn't sleep again that night and was staring at the ceiling in boredom when Dad entered the room in the early hours of the morning. My mood instantly perked up at the sight of him. He was clearly taken aback to find me awake but he smiled at me fondly, moving to kiss my forehead. Laying in bed, as he did so, made me feel as though I was five years old again but I didn't mind. It was surprisingly comforting after everything.

"You look exhausted," he whispered as he leaned back and studied my face. "Did you sleep at all whilst I was gone?"

I nodded, trying to alienate his worries. I didn't think it would help that cause telling him how little I had slept and what had kept me up the rest of the night. Jasper's dark eyes flashed across my vision and I tried my best to not to shiver at the fear that had washed through me. I would not be afraid of him. I refused to be. Even if that was exactly what my body told me was reasonable.

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 **I'm sure you've all be waiting impatiently for Jasper to reappear ;) x**


	8. Chapter 8

It was barely 6 in the morning but that made it the perfect time to call Maman. It was 2 in the afternoon in London and I knew she would be expecting to hear from me. Dad had called her from the inn whilst he was gone and I could see her viciously cutting at the stems of flowers in her anxiety and silently hoped she didn't ruin any of her wedding orders.

It felt like I had been in the hospital ages but, in reality, it was only the second day. Carlisle wanted to keep me in for a week, but I wasn't sure I could manage that. The ringing in my head had already passed – as long as I didn't try think of things too complicated – and though my chest still hurt with every breath I was managing with the pain meds and ice packs that the nurses kept bringing me. I didn't need to be in hospital for that. I knew from TV that American health care was expensive and I dreaded to think how much each minute was costing Dad for what would be free in England. I knew better than to mention that to him, I knew without seeing it exactly what look Dad would give me and I had no desire to upset him. I hoped I could convince them to discharge me early. We would need to go home soon – Dad had struggled to move around enough things to get just over two weeks of work.

Jasper and Carlisle drifted across my mind. How would they affect our lives? Jasper seemed to want little do to with me or, at the very least, felt he couldn't be trusted to have anything to do with me. I wasn't getting my big brother back. But Carlisle seemed not to have the same chains. Chains were the were the only way I could describe the way I viewed Jasper; chained to stop himself doing something dreadful. My mind would not let me consider what horrendous thing he feared himself capable of.

The warm, lilting voice of my mother, complete with her French accent that never seemed to fade regardless of how long she lived in England, seemed to settle both me and Dad once over her initial worry. How she managed to fuss over me when on the phone I couldn't understand and I wondered if she was going to fly out now that I was injured. She made no mention of it though and my worries drifted away as she became assured of my safety. I loved her dearly, loved when all three of us were together. But I already had Dad hovering at my side, barely sleeping or touching his food. I couldn't watch them both do it.

Just as I hung up the phone, assuring Maman that I was well and we would be returning home as soon as possible, Esme knocked gently on the door frame of my room with Alice practically dancing at her heels. I watched the door; hopeful, as they entered, that Jasper would follow, even unwillingly, behind them but the door swung shut behind them and didn't reopen. I glanced up to see Esme watching me and she gave me a soft smile as though she knew exactly what I was doing. Perhaps she did, perhaps I was that obvious.

Alice flew towards me, her thin but strong arms wrapping themselves around me. I stiffened unsure of the tiny, cold stranger hugging me so tightly. She pulled back almost as quickly as she'd taken hold of me and I shook my head at her softly. I hadn't told Dad the reason for my fall and I didn't want to. She smiled at me: her eyes apologetic but curious. I could see she was studying me and wondered if she was looking for similarities between me and Jasper. She wouldn't find them – there was no blood relation there, no features to be shared.

I turned my attention to watch curiously as Esme approached Dad. He rose to meet her, perhaps not understanding who she was, and took the hand offered to him.

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Thomas," clearly, she had not been told that he preferred Tom but no one could doubt the sincerity of her words. Another weird meeting taking place before my eyes: meeting your stepson who was older than you. Though perhaps a more common meeting that Dad and Carlisle.

I watched Dad fumble for a minute, wrong footed by the lack of introduction mixed with his introverted nature. Then he smiled and I could see Esme soften further, charmed by him as everyone was.

"We brought you some coffee," Esme continued holding up the large flask that she was cradling in her hands. "I hope you drink coffee…I know you're English."

I laughed softly and saw Dad shoot me an amused look out the corner of his eyes. My dad without coffee was like an … Well, I couldn't think of an apt analogy. Suffice to say, he did not function well. I had learned long ago not to talk to him before he had coffee in his system – that he didn't communicate or even walk properly until he'd had it.

"It's really appreciated, thank you," he took the offered flask softly and placed it on the table, "but I'm afraid I'm not sure who either of you are."

It was Esme's turned to laugh and I felt like I was looking upon a Disney princess, perhaps Snow White.

"My name's Esme, this is Alice," she gestured to where Alice had taken a seat at my side. "We met Emmelyn briefly the night of her fall – I'm Carlisle's wife."

I saw Dad instantly recoil and drop the hand he was about to offer out in greeting. Esme, to her credit, didn't stop smiling and turned to me, quite clearly to give him time to recover. She glided over and perched on the bed beside me.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, a maternal look drifting across he face and dimples appearing in her cheeks. She looked like everything kind and good but positive emotions were not what overtook me as I looked into her golden eyes. Eyes that Alice had too. That Carlisle did instead of the same blue as me and Dad. That Jasper's coffee brown eyes had become. Suddenly I didn't care if Carlisle had told Dad anything.

I met Esme's eyes feeling determined and brave, "I want to see Jasper."

Esme's smile dropped and Alice learnt forward, placing a too cold hand on my arm.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Emmelyn," Alice's words came out guarded and honeyed. She sounded so pleasant, her voice ringing and bright, but I didn't trust the way she looked at me. I glared back at her smile. "He sent me instead."

The words were meant to be reassuring but their meaning was clear. Jasper didn't want to see me. He couldn't be trusted, he said, and from Alice's appearance I could only conclude that he was never going to see me again. That awful hug we shared the other day the last time I could touch him, the look of sorrow he gave me last night that last image I would have of him and his apology the last words.

Heat rushed over me and my fingers started tingling. Alice and Esme watched me in concern almost as though they could hear my suddenly racing heart, building up speed as though it was a race car on a track. Dad, who had stayed quiet until now, watching the conversation with narrowed eyes, rushed towards me. Each gasping breath I took struck me like knives but brought no solace, no oxygen. Was I dying? Going insane? Dad's arms wrapped round me, and I slumped against him. He hushed me softly, brushing at tears I was unaware of streaming down my face. I was shaking, I realised, but the more I tried to stop the more I cried. I was sobbing. I was drowning – stuck just beneath the water with nothing below me and no way to get back. Dad drifted away from me even though he didn't move and I couldn't follow. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe. A strange sound escaped me, erupted without my control, somewhere between a sob and a gasp. Something tightened around me and I threw my arms wide trying to free myself. Too close. Too tight. I needed space. I needed to breath!


	9. Chapter 9

I came back to myself slowly. A mug of hot tea courtesy of one of the nurses cradled between my hands as I curled into Dad's side. Exhausted and embarrassed, I refused to look at Esme and Alice though they were still in the room.

Dad sighed heavily after the silence lasted a good ten minutes. His hand rubbing soothing circle's in my shoulder, making me feel young and sleepy.

"Did someone say Jasper?" he asked the question warily as though he really couldn't bear to know the answer. I shuffled closer to him, completely unsure how to help. I could tell, could feel, could hear, that no one had said anything to him before now. I felt shame wash over me.

I heard Esme's low heels approach us and felt Dad tense.

"Yes," her word was barely a breath on the air, but it reached us none the less. Dad's arm tightened around my shoulders. There was no point in pretending Jasper was someone completely unrelated to us. "You're his father?"

Dad was silent and I knew he was weighing his response. "No."

Glancing up, I saw Esme and Alice frown in confusion, but Alice's expression cleared first.

"My wife and I took Jasper in when his parents went," here Dad paused, "to find work. They asked us to look after him until they came back but they never did."

"Did something happen to them?" Alice scurried forward and looked at Dad like a child waiting to hear a fairy-tale. I lowered my eyes again – it didn't seem right tell them Jasper's story even if they did seem to live with him. Dad seemed to have the same worries.

Jasper's parents had come. Eventually. They hadn't been working all the years they had been gone, if they ever had been, and nothing had kept them from returning but their own selfishness. For us, it had been dreadful. Mr and Mrs Whitlock turned up on our doorstep just two weeks after Jasper had been reported missing. I sat on the floor outside Dad's office as he took upon the dreadful task of telling them their only son was presumed dead. I'd heard the accusations they threw at him but Dad had stood through it. It was only when they left did his expression fall to drawn and guilty. Mr and Mrs Whitlock didn't deserve their son, the gentleman Jasper grew up to become. Though I could not remember them from before Jasper lived with us, I grew to hate them instantly that day for tearing us down in our time of grief.

Jasper didn't know his parents had come back for him. If he didn't, Esme and Alice certainly couldn't.

"Is there a problem in here?" Carlisle drifted into the room at the exact right time and relief washed through me at the sight of him. His question was apt. The room was strained. Talking about the past was out of character for both me and Dad. We had spoken more of it in the last few days than in our nearly 400 years of living. "I see you've met my wife, son."

I watched Dad's jaw clench at that sentence. The topic had barely even opened before it had been swiftly shut. From Dad's expression, I knew it would be opened again for a while.

"Where's my son?" I recognised the steely tone he used. It was the same one I'd used one Esme, the same tone I'd learnt from him.

Carlisle's eyebrows rose, and he looked suspiciously over at Alice and Esme, but he didn't try to hide the topic either. How could he, when I was right there? Having cried myself to sleep over my brother in his arms.

"Jasper's at the house, I imagine," I liked how straightforward Carlisle was. I could understand why a younger version of my Dad – as curious and stubborn as he even had been – would get on well with such an honest father. "I could call him if you'd like."

My heart turned over but I wasn't sure if it was in fear or excitement. I shuffled closer to Dad as the staring dark eyes from last night flashed across my vision. Dad played with the sleeve of my hospital clothes but Alice jumped in before he could answer.

"Jasper doesn't want to see anyone at the moment," she threw a glance at me and I swallowed. Did he specifically not want to see me or did Alice know what he had said last night? "He's … well I'm not sure what he's doing, Carlisle, but he was very clear this morning that everyone left him alone. Even me."

Her last words were quiet and not meant to be heard but I caught the brittle nature to her voice easily. My heart softened to her – she was more to Jasper than just a housemate, I realised. I watched her closely for a few minutes and missed the next few words of the conversation.

"…circumstances, Alice, he may change his mind," Carlisle was trying to reason with her and I could almost see the desperation to answer his son's demands.

"I don't think he will," Alice was softer now too, her blinding smile disappearing to leave a more serious expression. She wasn't being difficult. She was worried about Jasper. I remembered the way he whispered his apology to me last night, the guilt that had tried to eat me alive. What if they weren't my own emotions? What if they were Jasper's?

I watched as Carlisle opened his mouth to argue once more with Alice but Dad had found something else to say.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he was looking at Carlisle but I knew that the words for me as well. Knew because he glanced at me very quickly as he said it. I looked down, glad that he was mainly talking to Carlisle. I didn't have an answer for him; not when all I could think about was that guilt, the all-consuming guilt and that manufactured calm. That wasn't mine either.

"Thomas," I grimaced lightly, "I didn't want to add anymore for you to worry about."

"That's not your decision to make," Dad's voice was hard. "You tell him. Tell I want to see him. Now. He knows well enough that I won't take a refusal."

I had barely moved since collapsing against Dad but now I shuffled against the uncomfortable atmosphere. The second I did, regret rushed through me and I sucked in a breath, leaning into Dad's shoulder.

"Are you alright, Emmelyn?" Carlisle's concerned voice came closer as he walked around towards the bed. I sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to answer him and winced in pain again. "Has something happened? Did you stumble at all today? Breath in any smoke or fumes?"

I shook my head, trying to take a deep breath again but stopped only halfway through breathing in to cough. Alice, Esme and Carlisle all tensed and watched my hands as I lowered them from my face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking up in Carlisle's worried expression.

"I need to get you down for an x-ray," he said softly, glancing over my shoulder at Dad, who's hand now grasped my shoulder comfortingly. "You're coughing up blood, Emma, I need to see you're okay."

I looked down at my hand slowly, dreading what I would see when I looked down. I sighed in relief to only see a few specks, barely noticeable, "Okay."

Carlisle helped me off the bed so gently you would have thought I was a china doll.

"Carlisle," Esme said softly just as we reached the door. "She had a panic attack just before you arrived."

He looked down at me and frowned in concern but his face hardened as he looked up to Alice and his wife, "I said not to upset her."

I ducked my head, embarrassed that Carlisle thought me weak enough that his wife, and whatever Alice was to him, could upset me enough that he needed to warn them. I didn't want protecting – even if I was ill, even if it was partially Alice's fault – I wanted the truth.

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 _ **I only have one more chapter written and past that I have no plans for this story. Just as warning :) x**_


	10. Chapter 10

In the end, it turned out that I was fine. The heavy breathing had just caused my still broken ribs to scrape slightly on my bruised lung. Carlisle wasn't too worried and said that my lungs were healing well. I could see the worry about his eyes though. We returned to Dad with no negative news and I was sure he wouldn't keep anything from us – that would be a sure way to end up of Dad's bad side - I napped through most the day.

When I woke up, it was dark outside the window but the lights were on and blaring in my room. Voices echoed around but I wasn't aware of them. Eventually Jasper's defensive tone reached me and Dad's demanding one. The vague realisation that Jasper had turned up to our father's demand briefly drifted across my brain. I groaned softly and tried to grasp onto what they could possible be arguing about. It made little sense and I rolled over to find them both standing, with Carlisle in the middle like a mediator.

It was only under the bright white hospital lights that I could see what Jasper and Dad were arguing about. Jaspers arms, jaw and neck were covered in scars that looked like human bite marks. I hadn't noticed them before, as pale as Jasper now was, but the bright, clinical hospital lights made new shadows that highlighted the uneven pattern to his skin. My stomach turned and I gasped. Jasper eyes spun instantly to meet mine: sadness and regret seeping between us.

"Someone better tell me exactly what is going on," Dad demanded, glancing between Jasper and Carlisle. I knew the tone he was using instantly. It was the tone he used when Jasper and I were fighting or when we were about to do something that could hurt us. It was the tone he had used when Jasper told him that he'd signed up for the war. I saw Jasper cringe and knew he remembered as well as I did.

That awful fight that had taken place the evening after he'd signed up to the war was clearly engraved in my mind – the crying that Maman did, the yelling Dad did. Jasper's revelation had brought them both to the height of different emotions. Dad had been furious: he scolded Jasper with burning eyes and clenched fists. While Maman had begged him to reconsider; she had clutched me like I was her lifeline, or as though I would somehow follow Jasper into the war. They loved Jasper just like they loved me despite having adopted him when he was five and his parents left him with us. Jasper tried to fend them both off – trying to argue against Dad's anger whilst soothing and consoling Maman. He had always been charming, people wanted to listen to him, but nothing he tried had worked that night. I was left in the middle, only just 14 years old, without emotions: I'd helped him do that to our family.

"Emma," Jasper's voice brought me back from the past and I noticed he was closer than he had been. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. I rolled my lips together, tracing his scars with strained eyes. His tortured eyes looked back at me when I dared to meet them. Pain and misery burned out of him causing me to throw myself in his arms, not caring anymore if he pushed me away. It wasn't about me, it was about him and whatever internal demons were haunting him.

He didn't push me away though and after a few seconds he wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me closer to him. His embrace was cold and his scent sweet but it was comforting none the less – it reminded me of a sharp version of whiskey and leather, of tobacco and gunpowder: the scent of Texas and something entirely Jasper. I wondered briefly what I smelled like to him – if it was England, probably freshly mown grass and tea. Pressed against his chest, I heard no heart beat and no breath moved his shoulders or my hair but I didn't say anything. Carlisle's words rang in my head.

"You look worried," Dad's voice broke the quiet but neither Jasper and I moved: he wasn't talking to us. His voice wasn't quite so angry now but the strained quality remained and I knew it wouldn't leave until he knew exactly what had happened to his son. "Why do you look worried, Dad?"

Carlisle didn't respond and I knew why: he wanted to protect us. Jasper clutched me tighter to him and I assumed he was imagining the outcome. His grip almost too tight. Suffocating me. If they couldn't protect us… what consequences could be so drastic?

I heard Dad sigh in frustration and silence fell again. Unsure what to do, I just returned Jasper's desperate clutch. Dad would give an ultimatum soon. He would not go without being told. Jasper was our family in every way that mattered, and Dad would protect our family with everything he had. He always had done. I knew Dad like the back of my hand and his children, Jasper and I, were the be all and end all for him.

You know what I miss about Texas?" I breathed to Jasper softly, anything to break the silence. We leaned back enough to be able to look at each other but his grip remained firm and steady. "The way the rain would come in from seemingly nowhere at all, soak us and yet the heat would never let up."

"You miss that?" Jasper lips quirked up but it was forced, his accented voice strained.

"In England, it's always cold," I argued softly, noting that Carlisle and Dad were watching us. "Maybe five days of gorgeous heat and then it's back to being cold."

The conversation was slow and stilted, like we didn't know how to talk to each other anymore. It broke my heart and, somehow, I felt Jasper knew that. The way he looked at me…it was like he could understand everything.

"Are you okay?" I found the courage to whisper the words to him – eyes that had always been sapphire looked with his new golden ones.

"Yes."

The answer came quick and easy. It soothed some of my strained nerves.

"Are you happy?"

He paused. His jaw clenching and he looked over at Carlisle. Each second that he waited, that he paused, considering his answer, seemed to stretch out. I could hear my own breath, could see Dad waiting on edge for the answer to the question we both cared the most about. Jasper's eyes moved to Dad, seemed to take in his rapt concern and attention as though he could read him like a book – perhaps he could – before his eyes slowly drifted back to me. I watched his features visibly soften and I knew what he was seeing. The 15 year old that had welcomed him home for a short reprieve from the civil war, who begged to know that he was happy before he returned. Two teenagers hidden away at the back of a celebration, a going away party for him, being more honest with each other than they potentially had ever been before.

He had answered me easily then. It hasn't been a straight answer – war was never happy, it was in all realms hell. But he was Jasper and he was happy to be serving his state, to be the youngest major in the Texas Calvary, to be doing something that mattered.

I realised then, staring up into his softened features, that was the last time I had ever set eyes on him. He had left the next morning before the house was awake – never even saying goodbye.

His response came slowly, reluctantly and regretful, "as much as I can be."

He knew this was not the answer any of us wanted. I swallowed back the swell of devastation, the only word that could even to begin to describe what took hold of my heart, and forced myself to smile up at him.

* * *

 _ **So for now this is the end of the story. I have stumped myself on how to continue the story or how I want their lives to progress after this reunion. As I've shown/said Tom is not the type of character to stand idly by whilst secrets are being kept around him. He cares too much for his family and has lived too long to have any patience for secrecy. And I don't want our vampires to tell them and break those base vampire laws. The Volturi are not characters I plan to include and have never been the direction I wished to go. I'm debating and currently trying out a plot line where Tom works it out; he's an intelligent man after all.**_

 _ **I am always willing to hear others ideas and theories so don't feel shy about leaving a review! One I saw noted that Alice has caused a lot of harm to Emma throughout the story which would be an interesting angle and has me thinking...**_

 _ **I'm so appreciative for the following this story have received, especially as it's**_ **so** _ **AU and from the point of view of an OC, so thank you! As I said at the beginning, I love Tom and Emma, completely adore them. They're characters all of my own, that I've spent hours considering and developing. I don't feel like I did them justice at all on paper (screen) but I hope I managed to give you a flavour of what I want them to be like.**_

 _ **Again, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the story x**_


	11. Chapter 11

With work calling Dad, both literally and metaphorically, we were forced to take our planned flight home despite Carlisle's objections to my leaving the hospital. Jasper didn't come to the inn to see us off and Dad turned down Carlisle's offer of a lift to the airport. I wasn't sure why; it seemed that his mind was going a hundred miles an hour and refusing to stop. Dad didn't speak much as a rule and was incredibly observant, but I could see his eyes darting around everywhere over our last few days in Forks, taking in and analysing every single detail. In a way, I felt that he was glad to get away from Carlisle and Esme. She tried to initiate conversations with him, and me, but she didn't know Dad. She didn't know how he struggled with small talk. Dad was careful and meticulous; he weighed his words carefully and didn't waste them. He'd always been that way – you would only ever know what he wanted you to. But Esme didn't know that, and nor did Carlisle really, so she kept talking, kept encouraging, kept mothering the both of us. In essence, only really pushing Dad further away rather than building a relationship with him. Jasper, I suppose, could have helped - he'd grown up a lot like Dad - but after our discussion in the hospital he had returned to avoiding us as much as possible.

Maman greeted us at the arrivals gate in the airport. Her beaming smile the best sight in days as I rushed towards her, Dad trailing along behind with our stuff. She was dressed in her favourite dress and brown boots but dirt was smudged on her cheek from the shop and a bit of flora weaving through her hair. She was the sight of home, sunglasses on her head and an umbrella tucked under arm. Her brown eyes sparkled as she wrapped her arms around me, suffocating me with the intensity.

"I'm fine, Maman!" I wheezed out with the little breath she left me with. She pulled back and studied me.

"You've got a tan," she observed mildly, and Dad chuckled behind me, the sound warmer and happier now we were home.

"That tends to happen, Élisabeth," Dad teased Maman and she laughed happily, her laughter as joyful and bubbly as ever. I glanced away as she wrapped her arms around Dad's neck. His lowered voice drifting towards me moments later, soft and affectionate. "You have a dirt on your cheek, by the way."

Laughter bubbled under Dad's voice and I glanced back to see him smirking as he tried to rub the offending mark off, still holding Maman close to him by the waist. I blushed at the quiet intimacy of their position.

"And a bit of crawler in your hair," I threw in, causing Dad to pull that out her hair as well. Maman rolled her chocolate eyes at us both.

"Last time I pick the pair of you up from the airport!" she playfully huffed, pulling me by the hand towards her and beginning the walk out the airport. "So, tell me all about the hiking adventure!"

I was glad she specified about the planned part of our holiday. I knew Dad had filled her in to an extent, but I wasn't ready to get into now. It had been a 9-hour flight from Seattle but neither of us had slept well and were shattered after getting on the plane at 4pm Washington State time and arriving at 9am London time. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through to an acceptable bedtime before I feel asleep. I leaned into Maman's side as we made our way through the airport and to the car park.

The old Kia stood awaiting us – a vehicle Dad had panic brought second hand as a new dad but had become Maman's as he worked his way up to the manager with a company car from the bell boy. I never quite understood how it was still running but it passes every service and MOT and Maman loved it. She was sentimental like that: she loved that the car had seen the history of our family this lifetime; had been the vehicle for school runs, rainbows, theatre workshops, music lessons, and most recently my driving lessons. I was quite sure she would never part with it.

The drive home was filled with chatter, despite how tired Dad and I were. It seemed to take seconds in comparison to how long it took us to get to Seattle airport from Forks. Nearly an hour and a half on the bus to Port Angeles to pick up the rental car to then drive two more to reach the airport. Unsurprisingly, the first thing Dad did when we entered the house was collapse on the sofa. Maman laughed at him lightly and proceeded to make him a coffee and the pair of us a cup of tea. The main thing I'd missed in America – they just couldn't make a proper cup of tea. We ordered Chinese for dinner and spent the evening settled in the lounge filling Maman in and showing her all the pictures we'd taken. It was lovely to be back just the three of us. No drama, no worries, no rejection. It was easy and home and I loved it. We didn't speak of Jasper and Carlisle, not at that moment, nor did we talk about my fall. Our holiday before we reached Forks had been incredible and there was so much to discuss before we even opened that can of worms.

* * *

 _ **So forgive me, I've been on holiday and working crazy amounts as I tried to find an end to this chapter. I hope I've haven't been away too long figuring it all out. You'll all be really pleased to know that I have found vaguely where the end of this story is going to be and a few major events to get there. Thanks for being so patient. I have one more chapter to write and the rest until then to read through and just make sure I like them.**_

 _ **Do you like Elisabeth? Tom's wife? I thought it would be fun to explore more into their lives at home. You know very little about the characters I've created, their jobs, their history since the 1600's and I'm excited to share some of that with you!**_

 _ **Apologies again though as I'm awful at writing these more filler chapters (as you can tell – its dead short) but they are sometimes necessary. Hopefully the next chapter will make up for it!**_


	12. Chapter 12

The sun was shining – rare and beautiful - so it had seemed the perfect day to have a garden party. Maman had made gorgeous earl grey cakes – my favourite type of tea and cake – as well as light cocktails. Our small garden had been full of people barely half an hour ago but they had all departed, gone in swirl of hugs and kisses, leaving me and Maman to clear everything up. Dad had been pulled away into the office by a phone call and Maman was taking a pile of things into the kitchen.

"I should have figured it out quicker," I heard Dad's voice drift out the open window from his office and into the garden. "Much quicker. It's the eyes, they – they threw me off."

"Son?" I jumped as a voice responded and instantly snuck closer, discarding the pile of decorations I was holding. I didn't know Carlisle was here but it was definitely his voice, confused and maybe a bit worried, that I could hear. Two months had passed since we returned from America and no word had crossed the water – or if it did Dad hadn't mentioned it. I was beginning to feel that Jasper had stuck to his resolution to keep his distance from us and somehow persuade Carlisle to support him. But Carlisle was here, in the house. I wondered briefly if Dad knew he was coming.

"It's been a long time; centuries," Dads' tone was dry and low – it made me instantly nervous, "but my beginning with always be as a Pastors' son. A pastors' son who then became the Pastor, who took on the duties and responsibilities of being one. A pastors' son who lost his father to one of those duties... I should have figured it out. Pale skin, strength, cold stone bodies, different eye colour, the innate desire I have to find a flaming stake-"

I gasped quietly. They were vampires. Jasper and Carlisle. That's how they were still alive. That's why Jasper wouldn't come near me. That's why he talked of killing me. His butterscotch eyes swirling into black once more crossed in front of my vision, the image of him rocking on his heels like he was chained animal. My brother could have killed me, and like he told me, a part of him genuinely wanted to, would have been happy to.

I thought of Esme the first time I'd met her. I'd been soaked, shivering, and she had walked beside me with no problems. She'd appeared from nowhere moments after I was squinting after what had seemed like a fast-moving figure.

"You're vampires. That whole 'family' you've created."

Did he change Jasper? I wondered, the thought flying through my head too fast and instantly replaced with another. He was a doctor! Carlisle worked in a hospital full of living people, full of blood. Did he harm any of them? Or drink from them once they had died? I shivered though it was a rare 32 degrees in England. None of this fit with the image of Carlisle I had been building in my head.

"I don't want to know what happened, the story behind it all. Not right now," Dad was still talking. Carlisle had yet to say a word to the accusation and the longer he left it the more I felt it must be true. He had told me all those months ago that, to protect us all, he couldn't tell us the secret but perhaps he was too much like Dad to lie about it when directly questioned with the correct suspicion. "but I need to know… can I trust you?"

 _"I can't be trusted, Emmelyn!"_ Jaspers' frustrated voice shot through me like an electric shook.

"Thomas-"

"Your new family?" Dad continued without pause. "With my wife, and my daughter, with their lives and their safety? I need you to guarantee me this because I can't – I can't let anything happen to them. They're it, they're the choice I will always make, they're the priority."

My heart swelled with love for my father.

"And your son?"

And swiftly broke with Dad's silence. Carlisle's words were not malicious or goading. I knew with no doubt that he was not trying to hurt Dad. He was being rational and logical – himself. In that moment, listening to Dad's conflicted and painful silence, I hated him for it.

"Back off," I whispered quietly, hoping that Carlisle would hear me – the legends had always said vampires had excellent hearing.

"Jasper, perhaps, struggles most with our diet," Carlisle continued, his voice apologetic. "There is a reason he distanced himself from you and Emmelyn. He doesn't trust himself."

Footsteps crunched nearby and I glanced up to see Maman gazing over at me. An eyebrow raised in a clear message. I glanced back at the open window of Dad's office before following her instructions. She kissed my cheek as I approached her.

"I'm going to go meet a client, chérie, would you like to join me?" concern shined from her brown eyes, so different from mine and Dad's. She gauged my mood quickly, "It'll all work out. Try not to worry yourself too much."

She grasped my hand and pulled me back into the house, moving quietly past the office door which was also slightly ajar. Giving me barely time to pull my sandals on, we were out the door and out the square to the shop.

Rosentry Square was hidden away in Highgate and very few people every wandered down the narrow, cobbled street to see what was there. Lifetimes back there used to be a market every week which brought all sorts of people out and in but that had long since passed – Highgate was only a village outside London at the point. Now the centre of the square was covered in grass with a gorgeous fountain, where I'd seen many people (young and old) put washing up liquid in to see it bubble. Some of our neighbours hated it but it brought me a strange sort of joy.

Given the oasis-like nature of the square, the shop was located on Highgate high street for ease of foot traffic. Maman has fallen in love with the creaky door and the bay windows and quickly found the money to pay the rent. The door was open to the shop, as always, when we approached and, though it seemed calm in the front, the back work room was moving at a hectic speed. Maman's young Saturday girl was on the phone juggling the bouquet she was making, the phone, a notepad, a pen and the card machine. But she was smiling a content sort of smile that easily told you she didn't mind one bit. I worked in here since Maman brought the shop and dedicated myself to helping her out as much as possible. I didn't share the same passion for it as Maman did but I enjoyed spending time with her and working with something so creative. The warm shop was like a home to me with a couple of the staff members having been there so long that had practically seen me grow up.

Maman rushed around the shop picking up a couple of her wedding folders and folders of paperwork and soon I was swept into the madness that was the wedding side of the business and forgot, for the moment, about Jasper and Carlisle and everything that happened in America.


	13. Chapter 13

When we returned to house, darkness had fallen over London and the square was ignited by the lights beaming from the homes and street lights. There was no one around as we pulled the car up except one lone figure leaning up against our fence. I knew instantly that it was too short to be Dad, the hair too light: Carlisle.

He smiled at me as we approached.

"Hello, Emmelyn."

He gazed at me with cautious eyes, even as his smile stayed in place, judging my reaction to him. I tried to smile back but I'd no time to wrap my head around this new reality and I'm sure it came out more of a grimace. My brain screamed at me: _vampire!_

"Hi, Carlisle."

Maman wrapped her arm round my shoulder, squeezed barely noticeably, before she addressed Carlisle, her voice a little uncertain but kind and warm./p  
p class="MsoNormal""It's lovely to meet you after these years, I –"

"You're Élisabeth," Carlisle cut over with a proud smile. He nodded gently, gaze drifting over Maman as though familiarising himself with her features or perhaps judging her suitability for Dad. "I saw the pictures in the lounge and the office. It's a pleasure."

He reached a hand out and my stomach clenched as Maman shook it. Awkwardness fell as no one said another world. Maman huffed a short sigh.

"Is my husband home still?" She glanced over the fence at our house and I followed her gaze. I hadn't noticed that our house was the only one in darkness in comparison to all the others on the square. Maman smiled her knowing smile, "work called?"

"Indeed," Carlisle nodded, glancing towards the house as well. "He left barely half an hour ago. I believe he left a note inside – something about calling him."

Maman nodded and moved towards the gate behind Carlisle. He still watched me carefully but I made no move to follow her through the front gate and into the house. I knew the routine. She would call Dad, he would explain the situation going on in the hotel, apologise and promise to be home as soon as he could.

I watched Carlisle closely in turn. I could see how unhuman he looked now: too pale like Dad had said. We lived in England it was barely sunny and everyone was pale; but not like Carlisle. The way he held himself was too stiff and though he breathed and blinked you could tell it wasn't quite right. Though perhaps I was imaging it – seeing things I felt should be there. One thing I felt for certain was I didn't trust him as much anymore.

 _So, he can be trusted but you can't?_

 _I can't be trusted!_

"Give me his number."

 _I could kill you in a second, Emmelyn. I_ want _to kill you_.

Carlisle jolted at my sudden instruction, "I beg your pardon, Emmelyn?"

"You heard me fine, Carlisle," I still had not been able to reconcile calling him grandad, or grandpa or even had a conversation about what he would want to be called if I ever could wrap my head around it. "Give me Jasper's number."

"What do you want to do with it?" he had turned to look at me slowly from where he had been gazing around the square.

We lived on the same London square that we did in the 1600's. The church that had once been ours, had once been his, standing opposite the house, flowering garlands blooming around the entrance from a recent wedding. Many of the white stone cottages had been replaced since then but ours still stood, tied to church until 20 years ago when the pastor, with the agreement from the church, had put the house up for sale wanting a bigger one for his family. I had understood from vague conversations overhead from Dad and Maman that they had worked hard to secure the house, having had many conversations with the pastor to come to an agreement as they could not afford to buy it outright as teenagers, dating but not yet married. The struggle they went through to pay the agreed upon plan was evident for the first few years of my life. Dad had barely been around as he worked as many shifts as he could. His dedication lead to us having the house and his rising through the ranks at work to become the manager at barely 28.

"He's my brother, Carlisle, give me his number. I need to talk to him."

"You can talk to your Dad, to your mother, to me if you wish," his words were kind, but I could see how guarded his eye were. I shook my head.

"I want to talk to Jazz."

 _Emma, I love you. So please, please, just stay where you are_.

"Emma," his voice softened, his eyes filled with pain and he took a step towards me. "He –"

"Don't tell me he doesn't want to talk to me. I don't care!" I snapped, ignoring the way he was looking at me. They way Dad looked at me when he was trying to stop me getting hurt but without telling me the real reason, a reason that would hurt me. That look of sympathy, of guilt, of protectiveness. "I heard you and Dad."

Carlisle's jaw clenched and he broke the eye contact he'd been holding with me, glancing towards the church. He nodded his head sadly, "I know you did."

"It was cruel what you said."

"Yes," he nodded in agreement, his voice barely a whisper, but he didn't look back at me. "I fear it was."

"Then you'd say it?" I asked desperately, trying to catch his gaze with wide eyes. "You love Dad! I know you do. He wasn't saying he was going to go find that flaming stake!"

"Your father wouldn't hurt anyone," Carlisle said firmly, so confident in his assessment of his son that I frowned. I swallowed, glancing at the ground before I responded.

"He's been a soldier, you know," Carlisle's eyes meet mine instantly. "Last life-time in fact. And the one with Jasper. They're young parents. The age raised enough that Dad had to go. And last lifetime, he was 17 when the war broke out. He had to go then too and, god knows, he would have joined anyway. He met Maman briefly in Paris that lifetime and he died before the war ended. Daddy knows how to make the tough decisions, he's not weak or scared. And if the tough decision is what needs to be taken to protect his own, he will follow through."

I watched Carlisle swallow, "the first priority."

"He's the best father," I agreed. "He's brave and stubborn and he doesn't take no for answer. I'm my father's little girl, Carlisle, and I'm just like him. So, give me Jasper's number."

* * *

 ** _What do you think? The strong, feisty Emma I created is getting to come out_**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Sorry! I had to put my laptop in for repair!_**

* * *

I rushed to call Jasper the minute that Carlisle gave me the number so there was no way he could find a way to warn him. My heard raced faster than I moved through the garden gate and the front door to the phone on the hall table. I could hear Maman's voice drifting from Dad's office and assumed she was on her mobile as the receiver I'd instantly raised to my ear only hummed waiting for me to dial. My fingers trembled over the keys and I dialled the numbers Carlisle had scribbled down wrong near a dozen time. I learnt my head against the wall as I finally got it right, feeling my stomach turn over and over.

The phone rang twice before he answered.

"Hello?" the confused word was spoken with no southern accent and the more northern American sound threw me for a second. Suddenly, I wasn't sure what on earth I wanted to say to him or how I could possible start the conversation. He had been my brother. A brother that had loved and cherished me, that I have adored. We had been close siblings. Now he was a stranger. A stranger with different colour eyes, who sometimes spoke with an accent, a different species and we had lived very different lives since I last seen him. Was I the same person? Where we still really the siblings we used to be and, if so, how could I accuse my brother of being a vampire? To broach the subject that he had tried so hard to keep from me, to protect me from – was it throwing his efforts, his decisions, his love back in his face? "Who is this?"

"Tell me the truth."

The words escaped me without permission, tumbled from my open mouth without any thought.

There was a beat. A pause. I could hear my heart beating.

"Emmelyn?" he sounded confused, but I was relieved he recognised my voice. I heard him moving – the sound of fabric moving against each other. "How did you-?"

"Tell me the truth," I repeated softly, almost desperately, almost begging.

"Emma…" he sighed heavily and I could almost see his conflicted and exasperated face in front of me. The familiar face with new angles. I twirled the phone cord around my fingers, perching on our hall table where the phone sat. I wondered briefly what he was doing. "You don't know what you're asking. Please, don't –"

I cut him off once more, "Dad's figured it out, Jazz."

I wonder if he felt that his whole world was crumbling around him, like I did.

"Fuck," I heard him curse quietly through the phone and under other circumstances I would have laughed. I'd never heard him swear before. Jasper was always far too much of a gentleman for that.

"So, just tell me the truth. Tell me what happened. Please."

His silence haunted me and all I could hear was the vague hum of the phone line. Surely, he could have no reason not to tell me now, I knew the truth but I needed more. What happened to him? How was he turned? What did Carlisle mean by diet and why did Jasper struggle the most with it? I needed the answers, all of them, if I was ever going to sleep again.

Eventually, his voice crackled over the phone, his voice suddenly affected with his accent again, "we shouldn't do this over the phone, Emma."

My heart leapt and took of running, "then come see me."

"You'll hate me."

"Impossible."

"I really am a monster, Emma," his voice was low and my heart broke at how certain he sounded but my jaw clenched and I felt my own eyes flash. "I'm so far from the brother you knew."

My own worries repeated back to me.

"Come and see me, Jasper."

"Why?" his tone was wary to reflect the sharpness my tone had taken.

"So, I can smack you for the comment," I softened my voice once more. "Jasper, life is hard, in fact it sucks. No one gets that as much as me, I've been living in it for 335 years, on and off. Sometimes we're forced to make decisions that we don't want to, that afterwards we can't even understand how we made it and forced to do things that would make us sick were there not adrenaline and desperation controlling everything. I get the horror, the disgust, the hatred someone can have for themselves but, _god_ , I hope it doesn't make them a monster, Jasper."

He was silent for a few minutes and I took to counting the pulls in the stairs carpet; we really need to invest in a new one.

"I've killed people, Emma."

I swallowed heavily, dreading the words I was going to have to admit to my brother, "Haven't we all?"

I almost felt his shock but his answer came back at record speed, quick to defend me as always.

"It's different," he assured me, not for himself, to show himself a monster, but for me, to show I wasn't.

I licked my lips knowing my next words before I even decided on them.

"Isn't it always?" I whispered back to him, my voice becoming strained the more words I spoke. "Come and see me, Jasper. I was your little sister and I will always be your sister. It doesn't matter how many years pass for you or how many lifetimes I live or what either of us become-"

Maman came out of Dad's study at that moment and looked at me with tears shinning in her brown eyes. It strangled me for a second. Me and Dad had seen Jasper, I'd gotten to hug him, but Maman hadn't. He owed it to her. She raised him, a young teenager with a new baby and new husband, just understanding that there was something wrong with our family. Maman had the biggest heart of all of us and she'd loved Jasper fiercely – it was easy to, I imagine, when he thought the world of her.

"You still there?" his end was so silent, he could have just put the phone down and gone and I wouldn't have known. Further silence greeted me and I stayed still as a statue in anticipation. Then the sigh came.

"Yeah."

"Jasper?" his uncertain tone made me uncomfortable. Jasper was calm, collected and introverted but he was always strong and confident. "You're not going to hurt us. Not anymore than this already is."

It was a low blow, I knew. Cruel, like I told Carlisle earlier, but I was running out of ways to convince him. I looked at Maman again.

"Come for Maman, Jazz, don't be so –" I took a deep breath, licking my lips to avoid being harsh. "Come to London, Carlisle knows where to find us."

I didn't give him a chance to reply, throwing the phone back into the cradle and falling onto the bottom step of the stairs. Maman and I both stared at it for a good minute or two before deciding it wasn't going to ring. I wondered if he would come as I walked into Maman's arms, more for her comfort than my own.


	15. Chapter 15

**So the laptop wasnt completely repaired properly so it had to go back in! But it's back again now (though still not right) so I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

Carlisle left the morning after and the goodbyes were awkward and stilted at best. Dad's jaw clenched as he reluctantly shook his father hand. I smiled at him but our conversation from the previous evening hung over my head like a cloud. I need more explanations – I relied upon them in my life. Maman was the warmest off all of us and kissed his cold cheek, wishing him a safe journey. But you could tell the atmosphere of the room was not lost on her.

"Well," she huffed as she shut the door behind Carlisle. "That could have been better."

Neither Dad nor I responded. Carlisle knew I was there yesterday – I was sure that meant the legends regarding a vampires hearing abilities were true. I wondered briefly what he would tell Jasper when he returned to America.

The weeks passed slowly from then. Having finished college before we went on holiday, I was in the position of looking for jobs. I had a passion for musical theatre but no interest in university to train further. When I was younger, I thrived on the theatre. Dad and Maman used to take me to loads of auditions and a few of them I got.

Months passed and Jasper didn't appear on a doorstep. I got a role as the teenage daughter in a new musical transferring from Broadway and threw myself into it but it was difficult. I loved the role, loved all the workshops we were doing to get it ready to open after Christmas, loved the plot line. But, occasionally, it felt too similar; with lines about a son who was immortal and likened to stone, dead but still very much a part of the family, just made me think of Jasper. The addition of young parents and a musical daughter fitted all too well.

We were two months away from the first previews when I decided I was fed up of waiting on Jasper. Maman and Dad were out at a hotel function so I was curled up alone under my duvet in the lounge. The silence was drilling into my brain and, before I knew it, I had snatched up my mobile and sent a message to the one contact I'd sworn to myself never to use.

 _I got my first proper job! Are you proud?_

I realised my mistake as soon as I hit the send button but the minutes ticked by, with me clutching my phone, but no reply came. Frustrated, I threw it across the room.

Apparently, all the times Jasper had rejected me had not been enough. It started to become a thing that I did whenever I felt the need to tell someone something. Stupid things like 'the worlds feels like it's alive today' or 'why do the space bars make a louder noise than the rest of the keys?'. Sometimes they were more interesting: 'we ran through the whole show today with no mistakes!' or 'I passed my driving test!'. I never got a response and often wondered if he even bothered reading them. It didn't surprise me, the radio silence Jasper was giving me, but when I didn't get a response to my slightly needy 'Guess who's 19 today?', it hit me how stupid I was being. He didn't want to see us and he clearly didn't to talk to me either. A small part of me had thought that, maybe, just maybe, he would text back – his nature couldn't hurt me over the phone. The wishful thinking of a little girl…

 _You're being heartless, Jazz._

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get a response to that final, harsh text sent out of hurt but it was enough to make me delete his number.

Press night and previews were the next week after my birthday. I was so nervous for the first one knowing the audience was filled with press and the cast's friends and family. Maman and Dad hadn't been able to come – something they were both furious about – but in a way it settled my nerves a little bit to know I had a little bit more time before they saw the show. The rest of the week was perhaps worse as we worked to improve the show from the various reviews flying in from seemingly all angels and still keep on top of rehearsals and performances. When I was child, you never did a role full time – it was split between a few actress. Now I was a sole actress, in a new musical, and I felt as though I could be sick before every performance. Every day for that week was manic. Everyone rushed around the theatre as though they were being chased or timed. We were a small cast – only 6 of us – for which I was very grateful as it meant I had my own dressing room to retreat to when it all got to crazy.

By the time opening night came around, we were all beginning to get more familiar with our roles. The show went by as a blur, even as I knew Maman and Dad were somewhere in the dark abys that was the audience when the lights were brightening the stage, and suddenly we were all exiting the theatre into the street beyond where a handful of people awaited us. My heart swelled with appreciation and I spent the next half an hour meeting our audience and signing their programmes. I felt incredibly honoured and humble that these fellow humans felt I was important enough for photos and signatures, that they had been so moved by the show that they were willing to wait in the cold February night. I remembered being that girl - waiting impatiently and nervously to meet the actors that had such an impact on my life and emotions. I could hardly believe it had switched around.

Eventually, the stage door crowd cleared and I manage to make my way toward my parents. They were beaming at me, pride practically radiating from them, but I stooped in my tracks that headed straight for them by a movement in a streetlight.

I turned and squinted in the figure that stood beneath it. Honey blond hair reflected in the orange light and my eyes widened at the man who stood with his hands stuffed uncomfortably in his jean pockets. I heard myself gasp before I really realised who it was.

Jasper.

* * *

 ** _So what do you think? He's turned up! Did you expect him to? Emma's now an actress and the musical I was thinking off was Next to Normal which never actually came over to the UK (please insert me and my housemate sobbing here). It's a beautiful musical but so real and heart-breaking at times._**


	16. Chapter 16

My feet took me towards the street-light lit figure of my brother. Waves of guilt crushed over me with increasing intensity the closer I got – another question I had to ask him – and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. I paused a few steps away from him, out of arms reach as though that would help me. My stomach flipped with nerves.

"You took your time," I spoke after a deep breath and a glance back to see our parents approaching us. For once, I couldn't read the expression on Dad's face and, again, couldn't imagine what he could be feeling. Maman looked less conflicted – simple joy coated her face at seeing her son again.

"You were amazing," Jasper's voice was coated in awe and joy. He grinned at me from where he stood and no darkness shone from his eyes, a clear butterscotch.

I beamed automatically at the praise, a warmth threading through me at the knowledge, "you were watching?"

Jasper looked at me for a moment and suddenly, without me even blinking, I was wrapped in his arms, feet dangling lost beneath me. I gasped in surprise at the quick movements but quickly returned the tight hug I had been bestowed, that Texas smell wafting around me and pulling me back into the past.

"I'm really proud of you," Jasper breathed into my hair. I clutched him tighter. "Sorry I missed your birthday."

I opened my mouth to reply, to tell him that it was okay because he came after all, but Maman's voice stopped me before I could form a sound.

"Jasper?" her voice broke my heart. A mix between joy, trepidation, nerves and a million things I could probably never understand unless I lost and found a child. Jasper released me painfully slowly, lowering me back to the ground and I grasped his hand tightly, sensing his nerves.

His head came up slowly to make eye contact with Maman, "Hello, Ma."

There was a pause and then suddenly Mamon moved. She looked tiny as she threw all 5'2" of herself into Jasper's arms. It was not much different I supposed to her hugging Dad height wise – he must only be an inch or two taller than Jasper – but somehow Jasper seemed to make her look smaller. He caught her easily, releasing my hand to hug her properly.

I sidled over to my Dad, who looked down at me immediately. His arm came around my shoulder and a kiss pressed firmly into my hair. I looked up to meet his sparkling eyes, happy like they had been when we'd been packing up our final campsite last year. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but eventually licked his lips and sighed.

"I can't quite choose the words," he frowned and I grinned, knowing that that was perhaps the highest praise he could have given me. He hugged me back tightly as I all but attempted to squeeze the life out of him.

"It was brilliant! Phénoménale," Maman was back, stealing me from under Dad's arm and smothering my face with kisses. I giggled happily, only trying half-heartedly to escape. "We're so proud of you, cherie."

"Merci, Maman," I smiled up at her for a good while before she leant down and gave me a soft eskimo kiss. In that moment, I'd never felt more loved.

"Right, kids," Dad clapped his hands together and glanced easily over Maman's head at Jasper with a stern look. "It is February. It's is cold. Let's go home where it's warm."

"Did you drive? Or do we need to get the tube?" I shot a worried look at Jasper, who cringed as I said the word. Dad noticed it too: his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. In that instant, I knew he was struggling with what Jasper was. I wondered briefly if Jasper sensed it as he took a step back.

"I'll just meet you there."

He was gone in an instant and I let my shoulders drop. Would he really be at the house when we returned? Dad once again wrapped his arm around my shoulders and began to lead the way towards the tube station. I sagged against him.

It was fast approaching midnight by the time we arrived back home and Jasper was waiting for us by the fountain as we walked down the cobbled street. He was staring up at the church as Carlisle had been and a sense of da ja vu washed over me.

"This used to be yours?" Jasper asked as we approached him but he didn't turn to look at us.

Dad nodded, moving his gaze to match Jasper's, "from the day my dad died till I did." - Jasper flinched at the implication – "it was fair job. Kept us in our home and respected in society."

"It's an impressive building," Jasper complimented, glancing away from the church to look at Dad. I watched Dad smile before I looked up at the church myself. I had loved spending time in there when I was a little girl. I used to help Dad keep the place clean and had learnt to play the organ in there – the first display of my love of music that had carried me through my lifetimes. We'd had weddings and funerals in that church. Maman and Dad had gotten marred there whenever we lived in the city. It was a link to our past, our roots.

Christmas was always my favourite time of the year in the church life. Specifically, New Years Eve at the end of the season. Whilst other churches in the area held a watchlight service, Dad would always insist on opening up the church to those less fortunate – the poor, the homeless. They would come in late in the evening and Maman would prepare a big batch of soup. For weeks before hand, every year, Maman and I made blankets to provide to everyone that came and they would spend the night in the church, safe from the cold weather outside. We saw this as a way to make sure everyone started of the new year warm and fed.

"We have a lot to talk about, Jasper," Dad sighed heavily, heading towards the house on the other side of the square, " but, I'm afraid, the beauty of our old church is not one of them."

* * *

 ** _So I was hoping to end the story on fifteen chapters because that felt nice and round to me but I seem to just be continuing on and on. Hopefully you're all enjoying it._**

 ** _I had always imagined the opening of the church would be Christmas eve but I have just remember the Christmas Eve Services and felt that they would not replace that. The New Years Eve one however was less widespread and more often took place at Cathedrals (from what I vaguely understand from reading online)._**


	17. Chapter 17

Maman brought a steaming cup of earl grey into the lounge along with a large slice of cake that she'd baked to celebrate opening night but there were no celebrations happening in the lounge. Instead, it was deathly silent.

Upon entering, I had immediately curled up on the end of our soft red sofa, pulling at least three of the decorative cushions towards me almost like a fort. Dad had settled himself next to me and I was grateful for the comfort his presence provided. I wriggled my toes out from under a beige cushion to tuck under his leg. Maman had gone straight to kitchen, ushering Jasper to follow me and Dad into the lounge. He looked uncomfortable in here but I guessed that it was unfamiliar to him, the décor stye very different to Carlisle's and Esme's home. Whilst theirs was all about cream and white lines, our lounge was bohemian and colourful. Our red sofa was complimented by a light blue chair and a cream one, both strategically placed around a low, dark wooden table where a bouquet of flowers from Maman's shop stood proudly in pride of place. Jasper had eventually seated himself in the blue armchair and I knew Maman would sit in the other just so it didn't look like we were interviewing or interrogating him. She proved me right after placing the tea and cake in front of me with a kiss to my cheek.

"You were brilliant," she whispered.

Silence fell as she sat down. I glanced around at my family, taking in each of their frames. Dad was learning forwards on his knees, his posture uneasy and his head down. I wriggled my toes slightly beneath his leg to try softening his expression. Maman looked downright nervous even as she was curled up in the armchair like we were going to have a movie night – she twisted her wedding ring round her finger as though it was grounding her. She gazed right at Jasper, refusing to take her eyes off him. Jasper didn't meet her gaze. He sat uncomfortably in the chair as though he'd forgotten how to, as though he was about to jump back up and flee. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair so tight I feared he would damage it.

I sighed heavily, drawing attention to myself.

"We all know, Jazz," I watched Jasper cringe once more but at least he didn't swear again, "just say it, please; so, we don't have to ask it."

He swallowed and stared at me with troubled eyes but for once my brain didn't automatically remind me of watching them spiralling into blackness as he practically threatened to kill me. I stared back at him – not an ounce of fear coating my emotions. He breathed out lowly and then looked right at Dad. As though able to sense it, Dad looked up at him at the same moment.

"In my world, we have different rules," he spoke gravely and I was instantly drawn in even as my whole body clenched. I'd expect him to just say what he was, not give us a story, "but the rules are simple. They're not written down but passed from creator to newborn: don't draw attention to yourself, don't turn children, and don't let the humans know what you are."

I almost heard Maman swallow from where I was sat and I could feel my own heart trying to escape my chest. He hadn't said the words outright but we all knew what he was.

"If you do, turn them or kill them. Otherwise, the Volturi _will_ come for you."

"Who's the Volturi?" I asked softly barely trusting my own voice. As Jasper gaze turned to mine, I felt glad to have my fortress of cushions and my toes creating a link to Dad. I'd never seen his eyes so serious, so hard nor his face so drawn.

"They're in charge: you obey them or they kill you."

I flinched at how casually he said it and heard Dad give a low warning to Jasper. His face softened immediately, and he smiled at me instead. A wave of loving warmth washed over me and I frowned back at him. He looked back at Dad.

"You know how, in war, time is measured sometimes in weeks instead of years?" I watched Dad's jaw clenched as he nodded and Jasper moved his gaze to Maman, who sat without comment. "In the world I live in, _age_ is measured in centuries. We're immortal – there's no point wasting time counting the years. When I was changed, where I was changed, those immortal lifespans were measured in weeks."

Maman cringed, worry coating her lovely face.

"The civil war wasn't the only war that happening in America then," he glanced around us all, "though it was the only human one. In the south, there was also a vampire one happening as well."

I felt Dad's entire body stiffen as Jasper finally said the word and suddenly wished I had more than just my toes in reach of him.

"You see, it occurred to someone a long time ago that, if he were the only vampire in, let's say Mexico City, then, he could feed every night, twice, three times, and no one would ever notice. So, he plotted ways to get rid of the competition. Others had the same idea. Some came up with more effective tactics than others.

"But the most effective tactic was invented by a fairly young vampire named Benito. The first anyone ever heard of him, he came down from somewhere north of Dallas and massacred the two small groups of vampires that shared the area near Houston. Two nights later, he took on the much stronger clan of allies that claimed Monterrey in northern Mexico. Again, he won."

Jasper was involved in his story now and I daren't interrupt the roll he had himself on. He stared at the floor and did not make eye contact with any of us. I feared where his story was going.

"You've got to understand that when you're first in this life, a newborn, you're stronger and more powerful than you will be at any other point. You've still got your own human blood running through your veins and you're dangerous," I shivered at the image Jasper was creating. "A newborn army doesn't need thousands like a human army but no human army could ever stand against them. This is what Benito had. He was the first to think of it but the idea caught on quickly. It was massacre. The number of humans that were being changed and the amount that were dying as food. It was no surprise the Volturi caught wind eventually.

"They put an end to it for about a year. The humans reasoned it away to war and the creators gave the Volturi no reason to return when they tried again. They were more careful."

I wasn't sure I was breathing anymore listening to Jaspers words. Maman had grown even stiller, her face turned a pale shade that showed her fear and worry, but Dad's eyes stayed fixed on Jasper's lowered head. We all knew where this was going but I wasn't sure I could bear to hear the worlds leave him mouth.

* * *

 ** _Bits and pieces I'm borrowing from Eclipse – both the book and film. How are you all enjoying Jasper's story? It's taken us long enough to get here and I'm trying to make it a bit more interesting/original since we all know his past!_**


	18. Chapter 18

Jasper's head suddenly looked up, locking immediately with Dad's though I wasn't sure he intended it to.

"I know you were furious with me for joining the army early," he glanced at Maman, no doubt remembering her tears, "and that's probably only grown over the years given what happened…"

Dad didn't say a word. He merely looked back at Jasper, his face blank and unreadable.

Maman's soft voice broke the silence that Jasper had trailed into, "we were proud of you as well. Furious and scared but so proud."

Jasper's lips twitched upwards before he dove back into his story.

"For that first battle of Galveston, I was placed in charge of evacuating the women and children from the city when the Union's mortar boats reached the harbour. It took a day to prepare them, and then I left with the first column of civilians to convey them to Houston."

My heart suddenly took of faster, trying to escape my chest once more. I bit more lip as Jasper looked over at me. His eyes were passionate and dark, only confirming what I knew was coming. I'd opened the door to those soldiers days after that first battle of Galveston. I wanted Jasper to smile at me then – to tell me it was okay – but he simply watched me and I wondered if he couldn't bring himself to lie to me about this. Then he moved, slowly, rising to his tall height that had helped him convince the recruiters he was twenty rather than seventeen, and towards me. I watched his movement carefully, wondering what he was doing, but he stopped in front of me, taking my hand and settling himself on the floor by the arm of the sofa. I felt my heart settling the moment his hand touched mine.

"We reached the city after dark. I stayed only long enough to make sure the entire party was safely situated. As soon as that was done, I got myself a fresh horse, and I headed back to Galveston. There wasn't time to rest.

"Just a mile outside the city, I found three women on foot. I assumed they were stragglers and dismounted at once to offer them my aid," I smiled softly and squeezed the hand that held mine. "They spoke sentences that didn't make sense to me then but my instincts told me that there was danger, it was clear they had meant it when they spoke of killing. My judgment overruled my instincts, though; I had not been taught to fear women, but to protect them"

Finally, Dad's face took on an expression. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"And then a few days later, I was introduced to my new life in the newborn army they were putting together and… there was no way I could come home."

I sniffed against the tears I hadn't noticed forming in my eyes, releasing a turbulent breath. Dad was gone from my side, leaving my toes cold and adding to the feeling of loss Jasper's story inspired. I glanced to see where he'd gone, unable to look at Jasper's face, to find his him perched on the arm of Maman's chair. She wasn't crying but her hand was clenched in Dad's shirt and her eyes held more sorrow that could have ever shown if she were crying.

"Maria grew quite fond of me," Jasper spoke quicker now, allowing me to squeeze his hand as tightly as I could. "Soon, she put in charge of the others and began to depend upon me. We did well but she grew greedy – within the first year she had control over Texas and Northern Mexico… _I had no idea any other sort of life was possible_."

His voice was desperate here as though he needed us to believe that he wasn't with her by choice. For some reason, that idea had barely even crossed my mind. The way he spoke of this Maria was in no way fond or positive.

"How long did you live like this? Fighting for territory," Jasper cringed at what I assumed was Dad's very apt choice of words but his answer took even longer to come.

He was looking at Maman when the answer finally left his lips, "75 years."

I could see the anger brewing on Dad's face and the devastation that rocked through Maman. I wanted to cry for them, for Jasper, for the whole situation but I forced them back, pressing my lips together.

"I grew sick of it quickly," Jasper was quick to say more before Dad or Maman could even open their mouths. "That same violent pattern … sick of it long before it changed."

"How'd you get away?" the words were out my mouth before I even thought them through. Maybe all he had to do was ask Maria to leave…was I being to presumptuous in assuming he was almost a prisoner? His sad eyes looked up at me and for the first time I barely noticed they weren't the right colour.

"I made a friend," he told me with a half smile and I smiled back at him instantly, a tangled sort of relief trying to settle over me. "His name's Peter. He still checks in every now and then. He somehow managed to prove his worth after his first year and was put in charge of dealing with the newborns – babysit them, you could say. It was a full-time job."

He looked back at Dad and Maman before he said his next words, "between us we were tasked to dispose of the newborns when they were due to be replaced. Well, it was mine but Peter was supposed to help.

"We were about halfway through, and I could feel that it was taking a great toll on Peter. I was trying to decide whether or not I should send him away and finish up myself as I called out the next victim. To my surprise, he was suddenly angry, furious.

"The newborn I'd summoned was a female, just past her year mark. Her name was Charlotte. His feelings changed when she came into view; they gave him away. He yelled for her to run, and he bolted after her. I could have pursued them, but I didn't. I felt . . . averse to destroying him."

I cringed out of Jasper's sight. Those 75 years had clearly damaged him – did he not feel adverse to kill the other newborns? They were once human like him, with loved ones, they were living beings even if they were undead.

A sentence caught my attention 'his feelings changed'. Perhaps, I wouldn't have questioned it where it not for all the times I questioned emotions around Jasper. The strange way that emotions not my own seemed to overtake me. I wondered briefly if now would be a good time to ask but decided against it.

"Then five years later, he came back. Peter told me about his new life with Charlotte, told me about options I'd never dreamed I had. In five years, they'd never had a fight, though they'd met many others in the north. Others who could co-exist without the constant mayhem. That one conversation was all it took for me to sneak away."

I heard Maman breathe a sigh of relief and I felt a similar sense wash over me. I released my grip on Jaspers hand, wriggling the limbs in his grasp to return proper feeling.

"I travelled with them for a few years," he paused and I felt that he was editing his story for us. "I know you've figured it out, Emma: the way I can manipulate emotions" – he was talking just to me now. Body turned completely to face me, gaze locked onto my own. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, he smiled. – "You've always been brilliant, of course you had. Have you also figured out that the feelings in the room affect me?"

Suddenly it all made sense: the way Jasper could read us all like a book, the way he smiled when I felt a swell of sisterly love for him. He felt it all. I read it in his face the moment he felt my realisation.

"You can feel emotions?" I breathed softly. Instantly, as he confirmed it, an inconsolable feeling swept through me for him and he cringed against it. He could feel _everything_. The rejection I'd felt last year, the fear in the hospital, the no doubt wariness Dad held for him now. He felt every emotion good and bad that had rocked through us in response to him, everything I had tried to hide from him. I looked up with wide, troubled eyes to meet his just as a wave of calm washed over me, stronger than ever before.

He turned back to Maman and Dad, "I live every day in a climate of emotion – sensing everything. For the first century of this life, I lived in a world of bloodthirsty vengeance. Hate was my constant companion. It eased some when I left Maria, but I still had to feel the horror and fear of my prey. Then I met Alice."

His guilt-ridden expression for saying the word prey to our parents smoothed instantly at Alice's name and I watched Maman's smile creep up on her face in time with my own bubble of expectation. Jasper smiled back at her. "Like me, Alice is what we call gifted - she can see the future. Not a definite version but the route current decisions will lead you down. So, when I ducked into a half-empty dinner to get away for rain some ten years after leaving Peter and Charlotte, she was waiting for me; with news of Carlisle and how you could survive on animal blood. We left immediately and haven't looked back since."

I wondered why he had waited this long to say that, I felt the urge to hit him as the strongest wave of relief yet washed through me. I flopped back against the sofa. Dad looked unsurprised and I wondered if Carlisle had mentioned this titbit of information to him. Jasper looked round at us, obviously tasting our emotions to see if we really weren't running from him. Still, even as we sat in somewhat calm aftermath, I felt the anxiety radiating off him.


	19. Chapter 19

**_So, I hated what I had as the FINAL chapter so I've re-written it and added in a bit more drama to make it two chapters. Hope you enjoy it x_**

* * *

I lay in my room that night, tossing and turning. Every time I closed my eyes, I was faced with Jasper but, instead of his golden eyes that I was steadily becoming used to, his eyes burned the red I'd always associated with vampires. I dreamed of different parts of his story, though I knew what no one looked like. My mind drew images of Jasper killing the newborns, of ways he could have gotten all those scars I saw in the hospital, of him standing there as a human before Maria bit him. Thousands of other images rushed through my brain of their own creation, each clutching at my soul.

"You're driving me crazy, Emmelyn."

I jumped at the quiet voice that echoed around my silent room but a cold hand swiftly clamped over my mouth, effectively silencing the scream that tried to escape me. I peered into the darkness to see Jasper's concerned face looking back at me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Jasper apologised softly, removing his hand from my mouth. I gazed up at him with tortured eyes. Even as I stared, the images flashed by. His eyes morphed before me from golden to black to red. My brain tried to contort his features into something that could look menacing. He'd always been commanding, his features firm and strong, but I'd never been able to imagine him frightening.

I shook my head sharply, willing myself to process his soft expression.

"Did you come to check on me?" I asked softly, shuffling over in my narrow bed to make room for him. I doubted he'd take it - risk being so close to me – but I would have appreciated the comfort.

He nodded softly, retreating from where he leaned over me to the end of the bed, "I could feel your emotions from downstairs."

"Is it terrible? Feeling everyone's emotions all the time?" I clarified; it was easier talking to him than trying to get some rest. Had it been summer, the sun would have already been beginning to show itself over the horizon. It had been a long night.

Jasper ignored my question.

"Do you want me to help you get to sleep?" the softness of his voice was soothing in itself and I patted the space I'd made.

"You're not going to hurt me."

"How can you still be so certain after what I told you?" he asked but moved carefully towards me, lying next to me stiffy. I grasped his hand tightly in my own but left as much space as I could between our bodies on the bed for his sanity. It wasn't much but I hoped it eased it for him slightly.

I lay next to him in silence for a while contemplating his question. I knew what I wanted to tell him - that he was my brother – but I knew that wouldn't be enough for him. He would not be so reliant on my faith alone. I was also certain he wouldn't wish to hear that I would simply come back for another lifetime at some point even if he did harm me. The guilt of ever harming me would destroy him. Besides my love for him, I had no other reason to believe that he wouldn't harm me.

"I just trust you, Jasper," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling. "I know it's not enough for you but I'm going to keep telling you: you're my big brother. Whatever you've become now, you're still that man. My favourite person in the world – after Daddy."

He chuckled lightly and the tension broke.

"I am mad you at you though," I whispered, keeping my gaze above me and away from his expression. Jasper let out another small laugh: he knew that. I opened my mouth to tell him the grievances I'd held against him for years, to tell him of the small part of me that hated him, that blamed him and wanted to hurt in return. That's not what came out though. "You didn't reply to my texts. You definitely can't hurt me though messages."

Jasper sighed, and I heard the movement of him turning his head to look at me. It was dark in the room – I'd just been able to make out his figure when he'd stood at the edge of the bed – but I imagined he could see me perfectly well. I hated the disadvantage.

"You wanna try that again?" he asked slowly.

"Is it possible to lie to you?" I snapped back, instantly knowing what he meant. Of course, he knew that that wasn't what I meant to say.

I rolled away from him, not wanting to look at his face, and we were silent for a few minutes. The room was silent except our breathing and the ticking of the old clock that could be heard from the landing. Jasper didn't reply or reach out. Not a single emotion crept across the confines on the bed and I was grateful for it. I wasn't angry with him for the texts – he'd been forgiven the moment he'd shown up.

"I lied to Daddy for you," the whispered words left me slowly and I glanced over at him to see his lips twist downward but his gaze remained firmly on the ceiling. "Because you promised me that you'd come home. You promised you'd come home, and you didn't. You lied to me and I lied to Daddy.

"Do you know I'd never done that before?" Jasper looked over at me, guilt shining brightly in his eyes, in the turn of his expression. "Not on that scale! Sure, I lied when I'd broken Maman's favourite vase or silly things that seem big when I was little. But I'd never lied to him about something important. For two lifetimes, I always told him the truth and you _promised_ you'd come home."

I was on a roll now, raising my voice and starting to sit up. Arguing whilst laying down seemed silly and unimpactful. I needed him to understand. Jasper didn't move but his eyes followed my movement, eyes looked on my own. I wondered briefly if Maman and Dad were asleep or if they could hear our conversation drifting through the shared wall.

"And even worse than that, you left!" I almost cried. "You left without saying goodbye. Didn't I at least deserve that? You left without saying goodbye and then you broke your promise and never came home.

"And do you know what all this adds up to, Jazz? That's it's my fault," he moved now, a sudden movement that shocked me but caused no break to my speech. "And you can argue all you want that it isn't, but I let you go, I _helped_ you go. I should have said no, I should have told Daddy."

"Emmelyn," Jasper whispered, reaching a hand to my shoulder. I shook him off, sure my eyes were blazing with the hurt and anger I'd kept bottled up for years. "And, you! You shouldn't have put me in that position. How _dare_ you ask your fourteen-year-old sister to help you join the army underage; to lie to our very loving, incredibly kind parents, who took you in even though they were only barely adults themselves.

"So, it's our fault. You and me. _We_ got you killed. We betrayed everything they did for us.

"So, I'm mad at you. I'm mad and I'm angry but I don't feel like I'm allowed to be because you're back and you're okay and I love you…"

I trailed off and no words greeted my own.


	20. Chapter 20

I sat and gazed open mouth at Jasper as we sat on my bed in the early morning dark. I'm sure whatever expression sat on my face was an excellent impression of a fish: opening and closing my mouth as I tried to figure out what to say next. Still, no manipulative wave of emotion tried to wash away the pain and hurt and anger that were coursing through my views. He didn't try to take that away from me, to artificially stop the shaking and gasping that sounded like tears. Instead, he looked, and frowned and pressed his lips in a straight line as he looked down.

"Jazz, you're meant to say something now," I whispered, quiet once more. The frustration has passed and all I wanted was to know how he reacted to it all.

"You're right," he agreed, looking back up at me and a strange feeling that I felt was almost horror washed over me: he blamed me as well. "I shouldn't have asked you to help me join the army. You were young and I could have died. I suppose I did die. And I _am_ so sorry for leaving how I did. I thought it would be easier for all of us if I just left. I liked our conversation on the front porch of that party. I wanted you and me to remember us like that: honest, and truthful and you asking the really tough questions" – I laughed softly – "and maybe that was wrong of me.

"But Emma, it will never be your fault what's happened to me," Jasper bent his head down, titling it to make eye contact with me. "If you hadn't helped me, I'm sure I would have found another way. I needed, wanted, to join the army and I wasn't going to wait. It's my fault, Emma, never take that blame on you. _I_ was terrible brother and an ungrateful son. _I_ wanted to join the army underage. _I_ made many plans on how to do that and _I_ trusted Maria when I shouldn't have. That was my fatal error. Not joining the army – that's not really what changed me – I didn't listen to my instincts that night. Emma, I told you, I knew there was danger but I just passed it away."

"You were gentleman!" I argued and Jasper's lips twisted into something akin to a smile.

"Perhaps but that was still the reason everything happened. Not you lying to Dad and helping me join the army. That had nothing to do with it. I made the error, Emma, place all the blame on me.

"I know I'm probably real different now as I'm sure you are too. But, as you keep telling me, I'm your big brother and you will never stop being my sister. And I don't want my sister blaming herself for my dumb decisions. Forgive yourself and then, maybe one day, be able to forgive me?"

I smiled tightly at him, unable to take his words as the new reality.

"You know, barring last night, I think that's the most I've ever heard you say."

His smile was brighter than mine, creasing the corners of his eyes. Its presence stole the last of the restless energy fighting with him had brought up and I lay back down again. We lay in the silence once more and I fought my dropping eye lids.

"I wish things could just be the way they were," I whispered taking his hand again, encouraging him to settle bedside me – still as far across the bed as he could. "You, me, Maman and Dad. I loved that lifetime. I wish it could be like that all the time."

Jasper squeezed my hand, "you can't stop time, Em."

I sighed heavily and wondered how this would all work going forward. Carlisle and Jasper didn't age whilst we did. One day I could be 60 and Jasper would still look the same handsome 20-year-old he was now. Carlisle too. We'd never really be able to be in each other lives. Not with any real permanence.

Jaspers voice broken my quiet wallowing, "Why the sudden sadness?"

"Is it terrible?" I asked again. "You must know what everyone is feeling about you, about life… to feel someone else's depression, to have that weigh on you. It sounds awful to me."

"It's not always bad," Jasper answering and I turning my head quickly to look at him, excited that he wasn't bypassing my question this time. "Alice is like a ball of happiness. She makes it easier."

"So, it's mainly bad? When you're not with Alice?" I asked in concern – did being away from her make things more difficult for him? With that another thought cross my brain. "Does being around me hurt you? With the vampire blood drinking thing?"

It was the first time I'd say the word out loud and hurt my heart to apply the term I'd been raised to hate and fear to my brother.

Jasper was silent.

My heart dropped to my stomach, forcing open my eyes that I hadn't noticed had drifted shut.

"And you say you're the terrible sibling…" I breathed. I kept forcing him to be near me, close like we always had been- what if this was something else that had to change. I went to pull my hand away.

"I can get used to it," his voice was tense, pained even, and I wondered if bringing the topic up made it worse. "I will to get used to it."

I bit my lip but couldn't bring myself to argue with him. Instead, I shut my eyes once more and squeezed his hand, even as I shuffled closer to the wall to make the gap between us that much bigger for him.

He gripped my hand that little bit tighter and whispered a soft thank you.

Then a soft wave of exhaustion washed over me and began to pulling me under its lulling weight. Grateful to finally be getting some sleep, I snuggled into my pillow and allowed Jasper's power to pull me into sleep. Everything would be alright. Somehow. We were a family – one that always stuck together.

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 ** _Woo! We've done it! I hope you've all enjoyed reading this story and thank you for reviewing! x_**


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